They
say I am broken, for I cannot speak.
The
East Wind scorns, the North Wind sneers,
While
West Wind’s mouth turns down in pity.
A pity
that Wind of the South and Sea
Can
have no daughter more than me.
No
power of my own, but only
Silent
shadows of their strengths.
They
say my name –
Say
“little Great one” –
Meaning
one and not the other.
They
think me small.
They
think me nothing.
They
wonder that my father storms
And
mother swells
To
hear such talk,
For is
the talk not true?
They
call me weak.
They
call me dumb.
They
say
They
say
They
say
I say
Without
a word
Without
a sound
Or
with a song that flows and blows
With
music sprung up from my spirit
Melodies
of meaning
With a
gesture
With a
dance
A
glance, a tilt, a twist, a touch
What I
say in what you see
Meaning
in the movement
Look
and listen.
Stop
and watch me.
See
the speech inside my silence –
Truths
I speak where words would stumble.
Use
your eyes,
Your
ears,
Your
core.
Silence.
Listen.
There it is.
I say
I say
I say
I am
Not
wind, not Sea,
But
both, and neither.
Born
of each,
By
both beloved.
Judged
worthy in their hearts,
And
mine.
And
you
Will
Hear
me
.
.
.
Music
echoing on long after song is done.
