Wings for Wild Woman
Wild Woman carries the heart of a wolf
in her chest.
Its rhythm pulses in time with her wild sister,
who runs, wraith-like, through the forest,
stopping under a midnight moon
only long enough to tip back her head
and howl.
Her true being only comes alive
within sight and smell of the sea:
the hackles rise along her spine,
as she raises her nose to scent the wind,
determining her direction by the keening call
of the wild.
Wild Woman belongs to each of us,
and to us all.
She lives in the space between heartbeats,
and in the thoughts between words.
Listen for her knowing voice
at your right ear, whispering:
"Come, this is the way."
Then follow, with perfect trust,
for no one knows better or truer
than the Wild Woman Watcher within.
Wild Woman moves through worlds
seen and unseen,
emerging at daybreak to slake her thirst
at the River of Solitude.
At close of day, the forest rolls out
a soft mossy carpet for her bed.
In between, you may follow her
when she is Wilding, but not too close.
Be respectful of her space and of her growl.
And when she shape-shifts out of sight,
look down quickly.
You may just see the pawprints
she has left behind.
Wild Woman is the one we run from
when we are young,
and run home to when we are old.
She is an ancient singing through our bones,
a wise smile,
the knowing eyes of
a Watcher in the Woods.
If you are quick enough, you might just spy
the furry tip of her tail peeking out
from under her billowing robe,
and trailing behind like moondust.
Follow her, embrace her, for without Wild Woman,
our spirits shrivel up and begin to die.
With her, our vision expands, and we learn,
finally and unfathomably,
to fly.
From 2012, my friends. It felt right to share this with the Poetry Pantry at Poets United this weekend, since Wild Woman has come alive again, on the wild shores of Clayoquot Sound. Returning to my heart's home is like getting back together with the lover you never stopped loving, and it is even better for the time apart.
Wonderful to see this poem again, Sherry. I especially like these lines: "Wild Woman is the one we run from when we are young, and run home to when we are old." I am glad that you are at last home again.
ReplyDeleteI too love that line!
DeleteYour signature poem! I have always loved it, and it's wonderful to think you are now living in the place that feeds your Wild Woman heart.
ReplyDeleteYes! Great choice. I love it entire, and the lines Mary picked hit me, too, as truth I'm beginning to be old enough to recognize. Let her rise, run, whisper, sing and fly!
ReplyDeleteShe lives in the space between heartbeats,
ReplyDeleteand in the thoughts between words.... love that... need to find and embrace that primal wildness within us.
i wish to sit by the River of Solitude for ages...
ReplyDeleteWonderful, and I can well imagine your enjoyment re-engaging with Wild Woman as you are. I have felt that same feeling visiting old places from my life. Your poem is special.
ReplyDeleteRead and re-read and enjoyed again
ReplyDeleteHave a good Sunday
much love...
Glad you are feeling good Sherry back where you are comfortable and happy.
ReplyDeleteI cherish the moments when I let my inner wild woman howl!
ReplyDeleteThis is absolutely stunning a write, Sherry❤️ especially adore; "She is an ancient singing through our bones, a wise smile, the knowing eyes of a Watcher in the Woods." Beautifully penned.
ReplyDeleteLots of love,
Sanaa
I want to paint this poem on the walls all around the room where I write and feel them embrace me... Oh Wild Woman!
ReplyDeleteA pleasure to read again, Sherry.
ReplyDeleteOh, I do love this one....so many great images and words. To me, it sounds like an anthem of beautiful strength. I particularly love the bit about slaking thirst at the River of Solitude and this part: "She lives in the space between heartbeats,
ReplyDeleteand in the thoughts between words." Divine.
...the River of Solitude, space between heartbeats and between thoughts and words .... These phrases will linger in my mind. This was a wonderful and powerful read!
ReplyDeleteWow! This is a marvelous poem, Sherry. I really like that stanza about where we find meaning... between the words.
ReplyDeleteI love that tip of her tail... and for sure we all grow up in fear for the wild...
ReplyDeleteI'm so happy you followed Wild Woman. I can just see you flying.
ReplyDeleteReally, I'm so happy for you Sherry.
Yes, she is very much alive...
ReplyDeleteThere on he banks of imagination...
Wild Woman reminds me of Aslan in the Chronicles of Narnia (which I have read, not seen on the screen): not safe, but kind.
ReplyDeleteI'm so happy that you are back in your spirit-haunt, Sherry. I can feel the life coursing back into you. Blessings!
ReplyDeleteJust beautiful!
ReplyDeleteI thought this came straight from the "Wild Woman" book.
ReplyDeleteDear Sherry I follow you to sandy beaches, eventide is near, let the cool winds blow, we touch fingertips, watch the sunset, quietly wait for morning, you are here.
ReplyDeleteTakes me back to the first book i ever read as a child: Call Of The Wild by Jack London, and reminds me of why I loved it so much!
ReplyDeleteIt so feels right, to share this one, Sherry! Your heart has arrived home to the wonder of blue's salted treasures and magic~
ReplyDeleteMy heart is smiling wide for you~ I can only imagine how being back feels-like your soul curling out of its shell able to embrace the howl of the sea, the mist of your memories, and the abundance of joy! Wild Woman is hOMe~