My name on the Wind

I hear my name being called. Over and over distantly. As a whisper. As a shout. Sometimes in chorus other times a lonely echo. It's always sounded best as a duet. But always the calling on the Wind.

As a curse on the wind. As endearment from a friend. As assertion at the job. In rage from the mob. In memory it was whispered on the lips from ones I would kiss. Said in a prayer from people who care.

I hear it. I turn to it. But it's elusive. I wonder was it my name that I heard? Why would it stop but then again why did it start? Why don't I hear it in my presence? Why don't I hear it when I can be sure of the author?

How do you feel when your name is called? Does your heart race in anticipation? Call to action? A cry out for help!? The acknowledgement, the validation, the acceptance. If the wind had a name and it was yours how would you feel? If the people in the crowd could hear the winds name what would that mean to you?

I hear my name being called and I know that it's a whisper and announcement of things to come. What could it be a premonition ask someone to come for me? So I smile and determine myself to be ready and wait for the caller of my name to arrive.