A part of the whole
As martyred saviour defiant stood I upon a pulpit peak
and shouted of gauntlets thrown into pasture below
daring the wind to make me feel alive,
or tumble me from high perched arrogance,
so in death would I finally know life.
And the mighty north wind rose, screaming,
through the valley, it’s breath heavy with salt,
wet with conscripted mist.
Whipping angry lashes of icy air against me,
wrapping an invisible sinuous twine around
legs and arms.
And amongst the cauldron’s simmering grey
a brilliance appeared, briefly, and seemed to part
the land into light and dark.
A moment of revealed truths
when I knew I was part of the whole
I knew I was alive.