Questions of the Ignorant

Can you stop for a moment?
If only to listen to the rants of a madwoman?
But stop for a moment more on your travels, and listen and think.
Can you hear the whispering winds’ voices?
And can you hear the rain falling?
Or the river up ahead, roaring away?
Can you hear the planks of the bridge, old and tired, as the creak and moan in the wind?
Can you hear your horses thinking, as they shift with unease?
Can you hear your own heart racing?
Can you hear the trees’ roots cry as the raging river waters pull the muck away from them?
Can you hear the rope bridges fraying, miles and miles away?
Can you hear the small stones shaking as the earth trembles below?
Why do you shake your heads?
Are you saying you’ve never heard a happy spring rain?
A mountain boulder grumbling?
A blade of grass singing?
Have you never stopped to listen to the wind on a winter night?
Or hail on your windows?
I cannot believe that you have never paused on an autumn evening to listen to the rain on the tree’s branches.
None of these things you have done?
You cannot hear the thunder as it crashes?
The lightning as it dances all around?
Then listen once more as you fall from the bridge for not listening to the wind calling, ‘Stop!’