For I Have Seen The Wind
Mark James Wooding
Copyright 1987 Mark James Wooding
All rights reserved.
Cover photo by Patrick Leahy
From where I live, I see mountains far away. The mountains are tall and strong. Sometimes rocks fall off of the mountains. Every year the mountains get smaller and smaller, piece by piece. Closer, I see hills, smaller than the mountains, less strong, less tall. Every year dirt and rock are washed from the hills, making them a little less. Then I see flatlands, stretching far away. Over them all there is the wind, without beginning, without end.
Many years ago, I was a great warrior. I led our tribe in many battles, and was many times victorious. I could steal a horse from any camp, any village. I endured the coldest winters without struggle. The hottest summers I did not notice. I did not even feel the wind, but it was there.
When I was a young brave, nations knew my name. They trembled at the sound of it. Among my own people I was great. Children wished to grow up to be like me, the great brave, the fearless warrior.