The Whirl of Wind

The wind whirls leaves across the barren cliff,

and swirls of leaves, lift into the white-cotton clouds.

A mother and child left alone, wind surrounding.

Wind as loud as thunder masking her calm voice.

The cliff grass, sharp as knives

Left them sitting on needles.

A once-new home is now destroyed.

If one only saw her sorrow. All

that was taken would have remained.

The child, sitting on their mother’s lap,

too innocent to understand. As innocent

as a plant sprouting in the spring. 

Something the mother wished she had.

Alone on the barren cliff, a broken

family lives. On the outside, no one

knew their inner turmoil. The fighting,

fighting, and crying. Not enough

to warrant any attention.

The spouse, left them, not quite like a mouse,

but as loud as a hungry bear. Shards of glass,

left on the floor, from the plates used for 

breakfast that morning. Broken plates, 

broken chairs, broken tables.

The only thing left was a broken heart.

Now, here they sit. Alone on a cliff,

with only the wind, broken glass,

and love for each other.

The wind whirls once more.