An eastern wind

I hear you outside whirling around,
at a loose end, wondering where to go to next.

You have travelled a long way
from Russia and the Ukraine,
where you never even got
a crust of bread to eat.

You roamed through Auschwitz
uncovering every secret horror,
hovered and circled again and again
not believing your totally frozen eyes.

And now you are silent for a moment
as if you were pausing for breath.

I am afraid to open my door to you -
the glaciers of your knife edge
would truly transform me
into a wet pillar of salt.

Munia Khan
Wind is blessed with this magnificent verse and so are we...A remarkable piece of rebel I think.Brilliant work John.

robyn selters
Incredible write... you never fail to intrigue and satisfy... powerful and fascinating...

Kesav V Easwaran
JNR down there is so right in deciphering the poem concept...the first two stanza lines tell the sorry plight of the Eastern Wind allegorically...artful write

robyn selters
Wow! You well deliniate the knife edge state of the human psyche after the most horrendous assaults...

nimal dunuhinga
My salutation to john o'connell Because you pronounced the Wind's dialect very well!