The Wind

The wind sounded much heavier that day, since it was loaded with a grave burden.

Ever since that day, it has been carrying all the cries which were not to be heard; some out of fear, some of agony, some of pain and some of grief.

There were cries for justice, cries for revenge, there were cries of rage and those which bore the sacred mark of freedom. All the silenced voices, all the dried up tears, all the congealed blood, the smell of sweat, the stench of the dead, it'll all be on the wind now.

And the wind sounds heavier than ever these days.

It is no longer refreshing neither feels good when caressing over the face; rather imposing a fierce pressure on the chest.

Until a heavier rain washes everything away...