I'm Not There Yet

A wind blows menacingly
through the stitches of my cardigan,
buttoned to my neck.
I'm not there yet.

Whoo! Whoo!
it whistles in cold tendrils
that lap around my ears
and neck.
Whoo are you
and where do you think you're going?
it seems to mock
as I pinch my clothing
tighter to my chest.

I'm a poet,
born out of sadness
and chiselled from the hardness
of life.
I'm walking a dark, windy road.
I know where I want to be
and I'll know the place
once I get there.
I'm just not there yet.


© JMariah, 2011