The Wind Became Words

The room is dark, but I see starlight out the window
as I lay in bed, sleepless, shivering, angry at everything.
Once, the minister took me to the mountain, to teach me
scripture and theology. I only heard God in the wind.
The wind became words.
I read of Spanish Captains and The New World,
the ocean forever, Man’s eye looking up At Gods Eye, the sky.
I read of the clear blue waters of The Pacific, the distant isles,
and the wild raging storms that make the measure of a man.
God’s words would be in the wind.
I decide. I am 17. I can join The Navy. Mom will sign me over.
Her trouble making boy someone else’s worry now.
My duffel bag packed, I walk on the sidewalk to the recruiter,
dawn a soft satin blue that has not yet become garish and gaudy.
And God, He whispers secrets in the wind.
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