Did you rage
or did you whisper?
Certainly you shrieked
but we all do.
You conquered the sky
and the trees bowed low
to the Banshee’s trumpet.
But did you conquer
for greed
or compassion?
Your words were brief
They howled above me.
Were they sharp words
steely words
forged in ice
and made to pierce?
Or were they wise words
simply spoken too forcefully?
Were they whipped forth
by rage and hate?
Or did they ride
triumphantly forward?
Are they gone,
their purpose lost
grazing aimlessly
like cattle?
Or do they linger,
waiting for the wind
to speak them again?