A HEART TOO FAR

 

Wild Woman's heart lives

halfway between a cackle and a howl,

waiting for the moon to rise,

for the owl in the wildwood

to murmur a chook-chook-chook to the chicks

nestled beneath her feathery wing,

listening for the wolves to sing

as the darkling sky winks its million stars

across the mountains and back again.

The waves are singing their siren song,

somewhere too far, out where

the wilds things are.

My heart, remembering,

is waiting, too, like the moon awaits

its moment to rise,

like the owlet perches on the edge of its nest,

summoning the courage to fly,

like the shore anticipates the lip of the wave

advancing, retreating, and returning once more.

Wild Woman's heart lives

somewhere between a cackle and a howl,

displaced, too far

from where the wild things are.

I wrote this in 2015, when I was missing the wild shores of Clayoquot Sound. And now I am here. Yay! When you don't give up, even the most impossible dreams can sometimes come true. Mine came true, not once, but twice. It was my dream to live here in 1989. I made a mighty leap, based solely on trust, and lived here for ten ecstatic years. Illness forced me to sell my trailer and move away. I was homesick for seventeen years. Longing to return, I focused my belief that the universe might grant me this final gift: to live where my soul belongs. And, after a time, it did. I remain forever grateful.

shared with earthweal's open link