As the Wind Blows Through Me

I am that empty tortoise shell
This resonating chamber
Made receptive by hollowing out,
Which opens up when troubled or awakened
By Apollo’s certain put-me-downs
To let the wind blow through me
As his lips play upon my voice
Vibrating my heart strings
In empathic response
Making music,
Making verse,
Making Art,
Or, something worse –
Hoping to relieve the distress that’s caused
When bullies rule the roost

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