6-25-09**What Soughs Through Me
If you admitted hearing voices
In ancient times they would have calledl you
A shaman a prophet a seer or
Maybe even Moses
In Salem you would have been called
A witch a warlock or
One possessed needing to be
Put to death
Part of the art
Of being a poet
Is to listen to the voices
As they sough through you
The sounds are gentle reminders
To pay attention to a color
A smell a word a sight
Then to remember it in words
As a poet I claim
The words I write are mine
But in truth I have heard them
As they rustled through me
It's like hearing the nouises the wind makes
It's not the wind we hear
It's what the wind blows through
And against
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Added by Poetry Lover
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