Alexander Coppedge

(June 25,1954 / Warrenton, North Carolina)

The Wind


Whisper wisdom to my confusion
Teach aids to help for things I need
Fortresses of hope to combat sorrows
Tender love for the wounds I bleed
Your knowledge, I look to
Asking pity for things I believe
To fly high above my delusion
Stirring facts against the many deceits
I know you in harsh winter
Chilling air numbing my feet
Desire your soothing touch in summer
The breeze cooling me
You're harmony is in the meadows
Angels helping wings, surrounding me
You, my friend, are known as the wind
The air giver: so I, can breath

Submitted: Wednesday, June 12, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, October 09, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Honors to a old friend Can't live with or without him I am a priest [sky walker] I believe the wind is our ancestors Jesus stated you know not where it come or goes You don't or do you?

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