Mind Winds

When I was young, strong winds blew in the wide spaces between my thoughts.
My thoughts tumbled and twisted in that wind, sometimes holy, sometimes wholly profane.
Slowly those spaces closed.
Enclosed with walls I chose to build: husband, children, career, busyness, importance.
The winds battered walls instead of rushing through the spaces.
I learned, I chose the close, closed life behind walls.
I myself enslaved and subjugated myself, my imagination.
I think this is not unusual.
Not for women of my age and culture.
And now this is the gift of old age.
The spaces, the spaces are opening.
The walls are cracking, tumbling.
Can I be kind without the walls?
Can I be faithful living in the spaces?
Will the winds bow and batter me, or lift me to new flight and new life?
Will the winds blow strong again or have they died to gentle breezes?
Welcome but unthreatening, felt but weakly, suggested not known.
Have the locust eaten my years?
Have the walls tamed my winds forever?
If God is in the quiet, is God enough compensation?
I think not; I want my winds.

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