Listening

I learned from the wind to believe my soul when it spoke.
The trees would lean and my heart rocked and
words would pour into my hands.
My mind heard, the words felt and I believed.
I learned from the wind not to doubt my soul.
Visiting my eyes, the wind opened them to hear what could not be seen.
They wielded, stripped and my ears closed to the questions.
I did not doubt.
Too late for that now.
Leaves whisper, pull, tucking away at my eyes.
The corners loosen the words that float to my fingers and crawl through my arms
to be read in me.
The wind colors my thoughts and I settle.
I learn from the wind to trust my soul.
Cleanse my soul. Take my soul.