Spirit Wolf

When he died,

she cut off her hair.

The wind lashed the cabin walls;

it howled around the eaves,

like her wild spirit, inconsolable

at the loss of her mate.

A lone wolf came,

night after night.

At first, she stayed indoors,

listening to him howl.

Then she went out

and howled into the night herself:

loss, sorrow, bereavement,

no solace anywhere.

He would howl back,

an answering ululation.

In time, there were nights

when they would howl together.

In this way, the winter passed,

a sharing between two lone creatures.

As the one-year passage

of her husband's death approached,

the wolf stopped coming.

He knew that she was strong again,

had found her footing,

was making her way.

Sometimes, a wolf is

the kindest being in the world.

Sometimes he brings a message

from the land of spirits.

Spirit-wolf, shape-shifter,

brother, friend:

we listen

for your call.

True story. Told to me by the woman who howled.  Shared with the good folk at Poets United in the Poetry Pantry, where you will find good reading on Sunday morning.