By the Air that is their Breath
Artist of the cyclone, the tornado, the rush of the storm,
I have been battered by your winds.
The gust of insight, of knowledge,
I dare not to look away as you bat your wings like a great hawk.
Messenger on the wind!
You whistle the great answers through the trees
if only we took the time to listen.
You who are the truth in each breath that we steal from wise voices
That we would prefer not to hear. Choked on our ignorance.
Post-truth silence brings no air to the liar
Death rattles stir in the bottom of their throats.
A final forlorn breath. The last cry of the complacent.
Air, singer of the funeral dirge
You are also the breath of first life.
You are also the warms winds of spring time,
The lovers ballad, the joyous songs.
You are the artist, the truth bringer, the mystery holder
Your resistance is the beautiful act of creation.
Great whistling prophet.
Breathe into us music, as we chant the words of our liberation
Breathe into us truth, as our poetry of rebellion
Breathe into us wisdom, as we paint a new world