Tempestuous Poem by A A Isaactamson

The wind blows
And my soul sway
With the air that slay

Like a dry leaf
It feathered on the wings
of the violent breeze

Is it me?
The terrible wind?
Or my boneless soul?

Who did this?
What pushed the hand
Of the sinless, unwise toddler

Into the chamber of the old woman
Where his ancestors
Used to find thrilling pleasure?

If it is the season;
Let the gods killed it
And anoint another in its place

If it is the terrible wind
Let the spirit of serenity arrest it
Tie and banish it to the evil forest

Let another season come
Come! Come! ! O Come! ! !
Come deliver the innocent hand