My inner wolf stirs under the Pink Moon,
howling the possibility of a world of connection,
with the land, and with each other,
a world of social justice for all,
humans and ecosystems alike.
Wolf is Presence,
life on its keenest edge, honed.
She is transcendence; to her
death is part of the cycle of life :
renewal and sustenance.
Our eyes, now, are opened;
we see with a fearsome clarity
what is meant for us here: cooperation,
connection, interdependence, balance.
They can shoot Mother Wolf from helicopters,
but she is wily. She will find a way to hide,
to survive, to outlive our ignorance
until we finally realize the truth.
We need her here.
She is our wildish nature, our love of the land.
She is our deepest heart.
We grandmothers are the wisdom-keepers.
It is time, now, to speak what we know,
the deep wolfish knowing
that humankind has lost its way.
Time to remember the ancient pathways,
and follow them to the Source,
time to remember that from
the tiniest bit of stardust in the galaxy
to the smallest sprout upon the forest floor,
all, all, is part of the great wheel of life.
All has its purpose here.
Visit the closest tree you see.
Place your hand on its trunk.
Do you feel it?
Endurance, Stoicism, Deep Being.
It breathes out. We breathe in.
We are the same.
Each breath of peaceful energy you exhale
stirs the molecules, adds its weight,
helps to right this tilting planet.
If a few billion of us breathe peace
at exactly the same moment,
will not balance, and hope, finally arrive?
for my mini challenge at Real Toads : keeping our balance in an imbalanced world. Day 11 of Poem a Day April