A Poem on Wind

The wind woke me up at 4:55 in the morning.
There is not sign of sun rising and of coarse sun set was many hours gone.
I listened as I peeped one ear from the blanket and I could not recognize the song.

Was it going to be a glorious day that would tell of the end of all starvation.
Was it going to be a horrific day of death and dying across the world.
Were no children going to be born to mothers that would hide their infant in a gutter.

Were no women going to cry all night as they sold their bodies in not a traffic of cars
jammed packed behind the red light but the traffic of human bodies being sacrificied for profit.
Somewhere in the depth of the wind I smelled the cherry blossoms from far away
and somewhere in me,I knew if nothing else, today I had to simply enter the world
with remembering the smell of spring and not the deaths of the tsunami passed
when I remembered the scent of the cherry blossoms.

The blood stains on the side walk, I will imagine are from the slaughter of the lamb
in celebration of a wedding and not from a gang fight leaving two young mothers
sobbing all night that they lost their sons.
The wind continues and I take a breath in as I realize
I want to fall asleep and wake up when it is already light out.
Somewhere between the mysteriousness of the fantasy of nightmares
and the glorious promise that a swamp will turn to pure water if I sleep a few winks and wake up.
The soft whisper, the howling wind, the arrival of spring before winter gone.
The gold fish in the pond start singing the songs of tomorrows promises
and the birds dance along.