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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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