It is not the wind that wakes you,
but the silky murmur of years
seductively trying to tell you
what has happened, or will.
Do not listen. The wind tells lies.
Touch my hair, my eyes,
the stones and bark of trees.
Do not leave this earth quietly
Far off, above the muffled air of the ward,
I hear trains sound.
If there were no word for sorrow, I would call it love.
N. A’Yara Stein was a multiple nominee for the past few years for the Pushcart Prize as well as a finalist in the 2011 National Poetry Series for her manuscript, Saudade. She holds an MFA from the University of Arkansas and is a grant recipient of the Michigan Art Council and the Arkansas Arts Council, among other honors. The former editor of the arts quarterly Gypsy Blood Review, she’s recently published in Verse Wisconsin, The Mayo Review, Ping Pong: The Journal of the Henry Miller Library and The Delinquent (UK), among others. She lives near Chicago with her sons and teaches at Purdue University North Central. Her newest chapbook, The Clarity of Troubled Love, will be available fall of 2012 from Finishing Line Press.