The Poetry Question

Discovering the Relevance of Words

Shooting the Breeze

As I sit here on this scorching summer day, waiting for my ride on the curb of some unknown suburban family, my fanny pack filled with everything I need to go to the river, I glance up to a the sound of a large cloth fluttering in the wind. I see there, hanging above some grey bearded man’s RV, none but Old Glory flailing away in the breeze, like a bald eagle violently flapping its wings to gain altitude. I had an epiphany, that the wind is the ultimate representation of being free, the only thing in the world that I can correlate to the thing that around these parts we like to call freedom. I realize how cliche that sounds, but I’d like to explain more thoroughly than “Freedom is like the wind, maaaan”.

The wind can be silently beneficial, like a cool breeze on a hot day or a gust of wind that blows the ball that your dumbass friend Greg threw onto your roof; this is you being able to go to the grocery store, and buy whatever brand you wish, this is the ability to tell your neighbor that his house looks like baby vomit and his wife is annoying without repercussions. The wind is often ignored, taken for granted; this is the young teen yelling about how his graffiti on the side of the Subway downtown is protected constitutionally, the freedom of expression. The wind can be a vicious creator of mayhem and havoc, the wind can tear cities apart, and bring civilizations to ruin with tornadoes of hatred and remorseless hundred mile-per-hour gusts; it’s a blade as sharp as the tongue and as cold as the shoulder, the freedom of speech. The wind can spin a windmill or a turbine and give us the power to run leafblowers and hair dryers, it is what keeps us from overheating in the arid deserts and pushed our sails over to this country, to create our constitution, the wind is a claw hammer that can be used to build or destroy, it just depends on who is gripping it. The wind is infinite, undefinable, obtuse, massive, minute, the wind is every superlative in the English language. The wind is natural, as we are, with our inherent freedoms, to breathe air and drink water; the wind can be produced artificially, as our constitutional freedoms are, they weren’t here before the human race and civilization, gorillas don’t have the freedom of press, I’m pretty sure if one gorilla tells intrusive stories about another gorilla there will be no piece of paper stopping them from clubbing that news-gorilla with a tree stump. The wind wasn’t created by us, was the right to be free? The wind is just accepted by us, harnessed, and we even like it so much, we make it in places that it doesn’t show up, with fans and air conditioning. Have we but just harnessed the right to be free? Can’t you feel the freedom inside you? It’s blowing around in your veins, pulsing and throbbing at the sight of voyages and exploration, it’s that refreshing sensation when you take a cool drink of water, or jump off a bridge when no one is watching.

I’ve raised my sails, and with a gust of freedom I venture on, the wind is my captain. O’ Captain! My Captain!

One comment on “Shooting the Breeze

  1. kiwiskan
    August 6, 2013

    Yes, there is something magical about the wind. Even the Bible says: The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes…

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This entry was posted on August 6, 2013 by in COMMENTARY and tagged , , , , , .

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