Keen

I am the cold wind, the cold wind that mutters,
I am the pine trees that whisper and moan.
I am the trapped bird that struggles and flutters,
I am the knifeblade that keens on the stone.

Sunlight and starlight are far in the distance,
sorrow and heartache are deep in the bone.
I am cold granite, the heart of resistance,
I am the knifeblade that keens on the stone.

Danger for those who stay home by the fire,
safety for those who go walking alone.
I am the feathers that cling to the wires,
I am the knifeblade that keens on the stone.

Life is a bargain, but still you must pay the price,
death comes around and collects on the loan.
I am the caged bird awaiting the sacrifice,
I am the knifeblade that keens on the stone.