And the Wind Chases

A Poem by William Teague

What are those memories that come to me like bits & pieces of broken glass?

Distant friends who are gone now remain immortal like initials carved into a tree.

And the leaves follow teardrops as they fall.

Time never heals wounds it forgets them.

Forgets them when there are no longer survivors.

It's life then, that holds you hostage.

Where is this - Leaves of Grass but temporally under my footsteps?

The stones hold their secrets too; eventually they wither and fade to sand.

Still there is no blame, shouting like an adolescent, "I never asked to be born."

As truth seeks our understanding, holding us responsible for our ignorance.

Even the very strongest of our kind are weaklings.

And the wind chases us onward and homeward.

William Teague, (c) 2013