Message in a bottle

There, there it is again,
Gentle, like two lovers finding each others skin for the first time,
Grabbing at my hands blind,,
And slowly engulfing the entirety of my arms,rising each hair ,
To share a cool whisper
Then vanishing through me
As if I were, what they call “invisible”

       The wind

The same in all seasons, reliable, dangerous,
I hear what it says , when it shakes the bush,
When the brittle branches of the olive tree next to my abandoned house rain
I listen,
when it ruffles and fluffs the sunbirds feathers, the bird whose nest had blessed my window pane
each summer growing up.
I listen,


Sometimes it says nothing at all,
Sometimes the silence is so palpable,
you could pick it off of the wild olive trees and swallow it whole.
These were the kinds of days where heartbeats were as loud as thunderstorms ,
Where a single step could disintegrate a home  into splinters,
Where bullets could pass through thin air like shattered glass.

But today, today is not one of these days.
Today, there are wishes brought from bottles
Bottles brought from waves
Waves brought from somewhere the wind hasn’t touched yet.