whistle whistle whistle wind

through me like Chinook

through hollow bone

humble as the bleached 

by time too long to count

when no spirit knows

where anything began

or where the wind

shall go and if it ever will 

come back this way again

whistle whistle whistle wind

the songs we have forgot

that we were born to play

before the dust and dirt

and all the hurt

clogged the instruments

of sacred flesh

so that they could

only make the cries we cry

from pity for ourselves 

whistle whistle whistle wind

and let love find

its way again

from the air that danced

with the music of

the warmth of sun

that only cools

when held too long

inside the shadow 

of my bones

whistle whistle whistle wind

let it flow like going home

to find an earthling star

in a song not like

a cry of want

but a melody of all

the elements 

of a universe constructed

by the interconnected

vibrations known as love

and come as the voice 

of what grandmothers sing

to celebrate 

and soothe our souls 

like reverie lifted

far beyond illusion

to hold you to

Creation's heart