Iowa Wind Poem by Charles Mungoshi
Iowa Wind
freezing cold night
only the continuous
eerie screech-buzz whistling
of the wind
sawing away at the eaves.
(that long-ago heard before ghostliness
the more chilling for being
so familiarly unfamiliar)
I didn't hear the shots
but I am haunted by a voice
endlessly calling across millennial distances
unheard,
till, exhausted, it drowns and falls lost
in the depths of the vast silence of the snow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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10/26/2025 12:23:43 PM # 1.0.0
