Hollow Wind
We stood on a hill in the hollow wind
and our words twisted like leaves on a stem
in the storm of feelings held at bay
by onslaught of the slanting rain
We stood on top in the hoarsest wind
and words twisted like leaves that hung
on a withered stem, as the rain flung down
and we spun dejected over the hardened ground
We dropped like stones on the hardened ground
and above us death clouds circled around
our wounded agony; in blackest day
we lobbied for hope in the wind
And raised ourselves on broken knees
and grasped to hide the feeling pains
that cleaved us apart. — And still we spin
unable to voice the once or the when
Or speak of the love we never found
as we stood on that hill in the rain
© 2021 by Dwight Lyman. (I posted an earlier version of this poem in the “Poetry” Facebook group on January 8th, 2021.)
