Severely disabled, bed-bound,
with no eyes, non-verbal,
locked in his silent inner world,
he is rolled on his wheeled cart,
by his caregiver,
down to the quay, by the water.
As the wind off the water, salted and tangy,
kicks up a gust and whooshes across his face,
his expression turns blissful.
I have read that eagles, too injured to return to the wild,
kept in cages and compounds in a wildlife refuge,
respond similarly when the winds blow strong.
When the winds off the desert gust and billow,
in their pens and cages
the eagles all close their eyes.
They face into the wind
and, together, lift their wings
to ride the currents,
in those moments
So with us, when the temptress wind
blows across the landlocked desert of our hearts,
we close our eyes,
along with the eagles,
and long to fly.