The Wind And The River - Excerpt -

. [Excerpt: from v.125 to v.152] . Out of him The country -in desperation- was howling at the moon It was howling in the shadow of a buzzard's wing A boneless wing, hanging by a cloud of rags. Out of him Rubble of villages and crumbled people - Crumbled and windy - Rubble of grief and anger He went straight on, like the northern wind Howling along with the country, trampling on Billions of unfulfilled promises and immense carnages. He went straight on, barely dodging The cracks in the Palace and the biological wells And the altars of ballots - shored and secluded. His eyes dug through skeletons of houses and People. He dug where others, before, had dug: By his bloody fingers - bloody tendons of frayed hope. He dug where others had reached feeble, shriveled breaths. He dug and dug.. - Good Christians. Oh, good Christians Good Christians, give us some water Give us some warmth, hope.. Good Christians.. He dug.. Yet, he got nothing but his void glance Nothing but the breath of his glance Out of him The country, desperate, kept howling at the moon. - - * [This is an excerpt, from v.125 to v.152, of my long poem 'Il Vento e il Fiume', published at Amazon as an Italian Edition. The poem has 666 verses] *