Cold Wind, Cold Heart (Part I)

When the darkest of purple has disappeared

And faded into black and invisible blues,

And the light is artificial except for that

Cast by the aching third-slivered moon,

What is the sound?

Not retreating footsteps into haven;

It is the Cold Wind.

Pushing against the obstinate

Raging through the trees

Turning over all that’s swell

Now where are all the bees

The Cold Wind is a blowin’ my friend

And it’s bringing lots of pain

Face’s furrows made with salty tears

And Suffering is its name

Hiding in the erosion

Nature sends reprieve

Brothers and Sisters huddle

Christmas for coffee-can Thieves

christmas is the mantra

The folks all look so cute

Pile ye in le automobile

Mall kids line, santa suit

But something didn’t come out right

Your hair a bird’s nest mess

The photo a tattered image

Of those who never rest

The Cold Wind is a blowin’ my friend

And it’s bringing lots of pain

Face’s furrows made with salty tears

And Suffering is its name

Wait…wait…there it was.

What is the sound of the Wind when it stops

And pauses to catch its breath?

The sound between the right crippling huff

And puff rippling tide of the left

The sound between the silence

Of a debate between two great lakes

The sound right before the silence

Of lovers’ apocalyptic mistake

The sound between the Salvation Army’s bell

Unrattling like the silent bees

The sound between the welfare recipient

And the man blowing taxes from his knees

The Cold Wind is a blowin’ my friend

And it’s bringing lots of pain

Face’s furrows made with salty tears

And Suffering is its name

The Cold Wind is the Old Testament

Spitting rage, brimstone, hellfire

It’s the sound of compassion’s apathy

Caving to your cruelest, ravenous desire

And then it all stopped

And they traveled through the streets

Palm fronds strewn about

Who cleans all those up?

Who goes into the streets and cleans up the debris?

Who is there to repair the downed-power lines

The broken shingles? The hail-pelted hoods?

The soil-vacated gardens with roots exposed.

You know? All those years of hard work and toil

Ripped up out of the ground

Your secrets of love and pain exposed for passersby

A general flow of spectator traffic like the ones that pause

On the 405 to see your stalled-car TMZ moment on the side of the highway

They didn’t even notice the Cold Wind then

As it ripped across your future

And your past

As you ran out of gas

And then?

In walked…the Samaritan