Wind of CHANGE/ Poem

I do not remember why.
I do not remember when.
I stepped outside.
It was a windy day.

A strong gush of wind,
Hit me hard.
My neatly parted hair,
Set on a flying frenzy.

The wind,
Carried dust within,
And she like an ace artist,
Took me
To be her canvas.
Her perfect strokes,
Made me her masterpiece.
And then, she was gone.

That was not all.
She came back,
Soaring greater heights 
And with might more.
This time she aimed
Neither my hair nor my dress.

She wanted me. 
She wanted to possess me.
I tried to repel,
But failed.
She was stronger.
She was stouter.
It was hard for me,
For I never resorted repulsion.
This was my first.

I bled. 
My skin shed.
My flesh all withered.
My hair all gone,
With the wind.
And what remained was,
My poor old soul.
The rage continued.
With each stirring from me,
She grew stronger.
She dragged me into her.

I stopped.
I stopped my act
Of repulsion.
I stayed calm, 
And let her engulf me.
This was much easier.
And then the SHIFT.
She grew gentle.
When she was set
To rip the remaining me apart,
My flesh and blood, 
And my skin was back.
My hair was on.

This was the time-
A new ME was born.
A new me, who let
The wind of rage, 
And the wind of change
Set the new direction for me.





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