Sound Travelling

Submitted by Tim Hawes on Sun, 2009-06-28 20:15

 92-044 2-9-92

SOUND TRAVELLING

I have climbed and am climbing,
Words wound round the camp fire
Earlier, sounding like taunts, But I
Continued just the same, my peers
Had all died when crossing
The sands, unwilling to survive
It's dryness. But I smelled a rose

Troubling the sand dunes
And continued even when I
Would have died had I
Trusted my eyes. It is no mean
Trick to survive the blandishments
Of alienation. I travel alone
Much of the time and few

Hear my rhyme even on days
When sound travels the farthest,
But what of that? I find I hear
The wind best at such times and the sound
Of birds wings on the wind seeking
An updraft that will carry them out of this.
My words are all I need, and such a wind.