***6-25-09**what Soughs Through Me Poem by Tom J. Mariani

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