How I See Them

by C. E. Williams
(U.S.A.)

Sometimes,
I think that people are blades of grass.
they sway in one direction
and then change to the other,
round an' round, they go.

Other times,
I believe they are a towering wave.
they build speed and power,
rally to a cause,
before they die down
and lap at others feet.

Sometimes,
I see people who act like lighting.
They strike quick and fast,
and leave just as soon,
a mess for others to clean up in their wake.

Other times,
They remind me of wind,
pounding relentlessly,
until something crumbles before them
and they move on to the next object in their path.

Sometimes,
People evoke the image of clouds,
fluffy and soft,
drifting aimlessly,
breaking down and rebuilding,
again and again.

Other times,
They behave like shadows,
a constant follower,
never speaking,
but always there.

Sometimes,
People are trees,
they sway in a dance entirely their own,
yet stand steady and strong,
a place to take refuge in
or rest from the very world.

Other times,
I see those who are like wolves,
traveling in fierce packs
to hunt out the weakest among us.
strategy is their weapon,
domination is their goal.

Sometimes,
I see people whose personality is that of ice,
silent and calm,
moving slowly but powerfully,
until they explode from the sky,
in an endless torrent of iron-hard rain.

Other times,
They mirror fire,
one moment they are just a spark or an ember,
simple and tame,
helpful, but dangerous,
the next, they are out of control.
A wild blaze that burns and destroys all in its path.

Sometimes,
I see people who reflect the earth,
even-tempered,
ready to support another,
hiding their true selves away,
and you must dig past the surface to find them.

Other times,
They mimic the mountains,
tall and unshakable,
they protect others,
uncaring of how they chip slowly,
slowly,
away.

Sometimes,
People echo the hills,
wishing they could be like the mountains,
trying, trying to be them,
to be a shield against the elements,
but cannot.
they do not see they are the ones the children love,
to roll and play upon.

Other times,
They are like canyons,
they start out small
but grow and grow
until they everyone has heard of them
and everyone wants to meet them.

Here I stand,
in the dark,
a silent observer.
People call me wise,
call me The Watcher.

But for all my supposed wisdom,
for all my watching,
I cannot unravel myself.