This Poem is a Wild Woman

 

Wild Woman collage by Ella of Ella's Edge

This poem is a wild woman,

knocking down invisible inner walls,

the better to observe the sky of mind.

This poem is agitated,

the inner wild a climate of unrest

when too far away from the untamed places.

Attuned to the call of the Raven,

the howl of the wolf,

this town full of monster trucks and logging rigs

assaults her senses, she feeling

as alien as a cougar

inexplicably materializing

on a sidewalk in the middle

of this grey little industry town.

Where is her soul’s home?

Deep, deep, in the wild places

where only the creatures live.

Sorceress of the midnight moon,

follower of the shaman’s path,

she drums a primal beat

that speaks “Home! Home!”

with a stick carved from her breastbone,

chants incantations to earth, air, water, fire,

prays her spirit guides will lead her well,

back to the ocean’s roar and the forest’s

sacred, hidden trails.

While waiting, Wild Woman

makes her escape in a poem:

sings to the trees, communes

with restless spirits, ululates with owls,

flies up and away over the mountain pass

every morning, every eventide,

to where the wild things are,

always and forever, forever and always,

a lover of rainforest and ocean-song,

she knows where she belongs.

Confined, her spirit finds no rest

away from her soul’s home.

Wild Woman restlessly circles and turns,

within the inner landscape,

like a too-large dog circling a too-small bed,

trying to make what does not fit, fit,

too tight the wrappings that keep her

from flying free,

for she has always been a seeker,

now hoping to find, one last time,

what has for so long been sought.

This poem was written in 2016, following an exercise by the late poet Elizabeth Crawford, of Soul's Music, who recently passed. At that time, I was living inland, longing for the sea. Sharing with earthweal's open link.