this wind

this wind

there's this myth that when everything's still and no wind is blowing, you just whistle and the wind will blow your way.

the night is still. after the day's intermittent rains and drizzles, everything is now quiet and wet. all i can hear is the steady whir of the electric fan and the distant chatters of men on the streets. i can still smell the moist earth. from where i'm at, all i can see is the non-movement of the clothes i hung the other day.

right at this moment, what i really pray for is the cool and steady blow of the wind. i don't need the artificial wind from the electric fan - it's humid and hot, suffocating and artificial.

remembering the myth i was told, i playfully whistle notes. first, in staccato. however, after losing my breath, i started whistling languidly into long, single notes. pausing only to breathe but even then, as i inhale, i make the same sound.
as i'm imagining this steady wind blowing in my direction, i feel light as feather. my hands slowly lift from it's repetitive motion and my feet rise from the ground unhurriedly. and then as gentle as this wind lifts me, i see my spirit light up as it moves, waking from its long slumber.
i feel light headed now.
with everything being imagined still, i see that the clothes i hung the other day still have not moved. the palm tree outside still seems lifeless.

i close my eyes.

then, i see that a branch from the palm tree has finally swayed east. and as swiftly as the first branch showed movement, other branches have now started to move. gently, at first. and slowly it builds. turning each branch east, then west. after a few seconds, i see that the branches are now swaying wildly in disparate directions. the hangers from which i hung my clothes are now rattling in their metal poles. clothes, now, have been dancing in the wind as if people participating in a wild dance were wearing them.

the first drizzle.

then, it is raining.

after a while, almost instantaneously, everything stops.

the leaves again are lifeless and the clothes, unmoved. my body is now aching from the imagined fall.

i open my eyes. the night is still yet again. everything around continues to be undisturbed. all i can hear is the steady whir of the electric fan and the distant chatters of men on the streets.

where is this rain?

more importantly, where is the wind?