NINE YEARS GONE

On the anniversary of his death - January 15, 2011

I feel it coming, this poem
I will birth
on the nine year anniversary
of your passing from this earth.
So close to tears, I realize, of course, it is you.
Just how much, how long, I'd miss you,
back then I never knew.
Like a burrowing owl,

you have lodged in my heart,
a prickle-burr that hurts,
from which I do not want to part.
You live there, night and day,
in a corner labeled Grief.
From the missing and the being-gone
there is no relief.

Ghost voices whispering on the wind,
and wolf howls in my dreams,
you look right into my sad heart;
your wolf-eyes gleam.

The barn owl says to light the lamp
on the windowsill for you.
But how will you find me in this place
that was never home to you?

I'm homeless in the universe, alone, without you
and I fear you're out there somewhere,
feeling homeless too.
Lead me back, wolf-spirit,
to the land we loved together.
I will walk there again
as we did in any weather.

When I can hear the rhythm of
the turning of the tides,
my spirit may still find a home
once more, where peace abides.
Maybe your ghost shadow
will accompany the hours
as I walk forever beaches that,
for a time, were hours.

*** *** ***

I went to bed and slept, and then they came:
four beautiful, white, snowy wolves
who already knew my name.
The first came close -
oh, the beauty of her face!
pushed a friendly nose towards me,
as I stood still, accepting,
but respectful of her space.
We were at the beach, the wolves and I.
A visitation from the spirit-world
of the not-alive,
and from deep within my spirit,
which needs both wolves and ocean waves
to thrive,
because it has never been enough
simply to survive.

The barn owl called sleepily
in the early light to wake me.
Four white wolves live within me now,
never to forsake me.

And you?
big, black, laughing, hilarious
creature of the dawn?
You're in my heart
forever now.
You are never
fully gone.

Hard to believe it has been nine years and I still miss him so much. I accept this is a permanent condition. We were soulmates. When I wrote this the first time, I was living at my sister's where Pup never visited. I wondered how he would find me. 

EIGHT YEARS GONE - for Pup

collage created by The Unknown Gnome

On the anniversary of his death - January 15, 2011

I feel it coming, this poem I will birth
on the eighth year of your passing
from this earth.
So close to tears, I realized, of course, it is you.
Just how much and how long I would miss you,
back then I never knew.
Like a burrowing owl, you have lodged in my heart,
like a prickle-burr that hurts,

from which I do not want to part.
You live there, night and day, 

in a corner labeled Grief.
From the missing and your-being-gone
there is no relief.

Ghost voices whispering on the wind,
and wolf howls in my dreams,
you look right into my sad heart;
your wolf-eyes gleam.

The barn owl says to light the lamp
on the windowsill for you.
But how can you find me in this place
that was never home to you?

I'm homeless in the universe, alone, without you
and I fear you're out there somewhere,
feeling homeless too.
Lead me back, wolf-spirit,
to the land we loved together.
I will walk there again
as we did in any weather.

When I can hear the rhythm of
the turning of the tides,
my spirit may still find a home
once more, where peace abides.
Maybe your ghost shadow
will accompany the hours
as I walk forever beaches that,
for a time, were ours.


*** *** ***

I went to bed and slept, and then they came:
four beautiful, snowy white wolves
who already knew my name.
The first one came close,
oh! the beauty of her face!
pushed a friendly nose towards me,
as I stood still, accepting,
but respectful of her space.
We were at the beach, the wolves and I.
A visitation from the spirit-world
of the not-alive,
and from deep in my spirit,
which needs both wolves and ocean waves
to thrive,
because it has never been enough
simply to survive.
The barn owl called sleepily
in the early light to wake me.
Four white wolves live within me now,
never to forsake me.

And you?
big, black, laughing, hilarious
creature of the dawn?
You live in my heart
forever, now.
You are never
fully gone.

I wrote this for Pup a few years ago, updated the year, and offer it here again today in his honour. When I wrote it, I was living at my sister's and worried that Pup's spirit had remained behind in our trailer and yard across the street. And now I am at his favourite place in the world, the beach. I hope his spirit gallops joyously along with me on my beach walks, as he did for so many years when he was alive.

Sharing this at the Tuesday Platform at Toads

COYOTES AT LAST MOUNTAIN LAKE

[from June 8, 2015, for Pup]

I heard the coyotes howling
as evening fell

at Last Mountain Lake,

and I thought of you,

my old wolf-pal,

and how you would tip 

your nose up to the moon

and howl mournfully

for all the wild places you loved

that we had lost.

Then you'd come to me and rest

your forehead against my knee,

wearily, for comfort.

We loved and lost so much together,

old pal of mine.

But, always, we had each other.

And now I am alone.

My nose tilted up

towards the moon,

an inner howl

expressed in secret tears.

Still missing our wild beaches.

And you.

posted for Poets United's Poetry Pantry, where they serve up wonderful poems to go with your Sunday morning coffee.

RUNNING FREE IN THE FORESTS OF HEAVEN

Pup  

March 1994 to January 15, 2011

from 2011 

Running free in the forests of Heaven
is how I see you,
tail and ears up
and that old wild gleam
in your eye.

I never tamed you.
I never wanted to.
We both loved the wild,
and I honored it in you.

Those big puppy paws,
I hope they're lolloping along
miles of sandy beaches,
dipping in and out of the waves,
the way you always did,
impervious to my calls
as you always were,
until you were done,
and then back you'd come,
galloping along to me.
You'd pick up a piece of driftwood
as we left, and carry it to the car,
for remembering.

Now I am the one who is remembering.
And one day, when it's time,
old wilderness pal of mine,
may you come lolloping back to me
to guide me safely home.

There are only three things
I need to see in Heaven -
the first is you,
and old growth forests,
and the sea,
so we can walk those trails,
hike endless sandy beaches,
and watch the sunset, once more,
you and me.

Sharing this with Poetry Pantry at Poets United, where there is always wonderful reading on Sunday morning.

FIVE YEARS GONE ~ for Pup

On the anniversary of his death - January 15, 2011

I feel it coming, this poem I will birth

on the fifth year of your passing
from this earth.

So close to tears, I realized, of course, it is you.
Just how much and how long I would miss you,
back then I never knew.

Like a burrowing owl, you have lodged in my heart,
like a prickle-burr that hurts, from which I do not want to part.
You live there, night and day, in a corner labeled Grief.
From the missing and your-being-gone
there is no relief.

Ghost voices whispering on the wind,
and wolf howls in my dreams,
you look right into my sad heart;
your wolf-eyes gleam.

The barn owl says to light the lamp
on the windowsill for you.
But how can you find me in this place

that was never home to you?

I'm homeless in the universe, alone, without you
and I fear you're out there somewhere,
feeling homeless too.

Lead me back, wolf-spirit,
to the land we loved together.
I will walk there again
as we did in any weather.

When I can hear  the rhythm of
the turning of the tides,
my spirit may still find a home
once more, where peace abides.
Maybe your ghost shadow
will accompany the hours
as I walk forever beaches that,
for a time, were ours.

     ***     ***     ***

I went to bed and slept, and then they came:
four beautiful, snowy white wolves
who already knew my name.
The first one came close,
oh! the beauty of her face!
pushed a friendly nose towards me,
as I stood still, accepting,
but respectful of her space.

We were at the beach, the wolves and I.
A visitation from the spirit-world
of the not-alive,
and from deep in my spirit,
which needs both wolves and ocean waves
to thrive,
because it has never been enough
simply to survive.

The barn owl called sleepily
in the early light to wake me.
Four white wolves live within me now,
never to forsake me.

And you?
big, black, laughing, hilarious
creature of the dawn?
You live in my heart
forever, now.

You are never
fully gone.

Oh, boy. I tweaked this poem I wrote last year for this anniversary. And now I'm a goner.

My Buddy

We were in tune.

We were both wild

under the moon.

I've been bereft

ever since you left,

and you left

too soon.

for Susan's prompt at Mid Week Motif: Best Friend

Shadow Elusive

Sometimes I see

a black shadow,

ghostly,

slipping along a wall

at the farthest edge 

of my peripheral vision,

so elusive

I can barely catch it

out of the corner 

of my eye.

I never turn my head.

I don't want to

look too close.

I'd rather believe

that it is you.

Peggy's prompt over at Poetry Jam tonight is: Shadows. For fourteen years, I had a big black wolf shadowing me everywhere I went. The last two years without him I have so felt his absence. But every now and then, barely glimpsed out of the corner of my eye, sometimes there is the hint of a black shadow...........

We'll Meet Again

We'll meet again, one day, I know,
at the edge of the cosmic sea.
Those eyes that watched my every move
will shine once more on me.

You will run to me, for I cannot;
your joy will fill my heart
that has missed you all of every day
that we have been apart.

I knew the parting would be hard,
and oh, how much I've cried
over walking through this world 
without you by my side.

Fourteen years with you
and perhaps some fourteen more,
before we meet again
on some far distant shore.

But then we will be joyous
and our two hearts will set sail,
share sunsets by the sea again,
we'll wander every trail.

I see you far off in the distance,
see you waiting there for me.
As I keep moving through this world,
stay waiting. Blessed Be.

The Wolf is Getting Married

Marian's prompt at Real Toads  is the song The Wolf Is Getting Married by Sinead O'Connor. ("Your joy gives me joy, and your hope gives me hope.") Needless to say, a topic I love. 



My shuttered heart made a  painful journey in search of love and peace. And then I found you, little black wolf-pup, adrift in the forest in the March rains, trying to survive. You were nearly dead when I took you home, warmed you up, watched you grow. Laughter came along with you and your big wolfish ears. It didn't stop for fourteen years.


Your joy brought me laughter,
your love brought me rest.


We gamboled the long empty beaches, turned down every old growth trail. Our hearts loved the wild. You shared my wild wilderness spirit, set free after all the years of being tame. You blazed the trail, and I followed behind. But you kept doubling back to check on me and, when there was any threat, you sat facing out, your back to me, ready to defend me.


Your protection eased my longing,
your devotion never faltered.


When we left the wilderness, you mourned with me, but to be with me you left behind all that you loved. Every day we pointed the nose of the car towards whatever wildness we could find. And when we pointed it towards the beach, your joy filled the car.


Your joy brought me laughter,
your love brought me rest.


For fourteen years, you loved me like I had never been loved: unconditionally, unswervingly, devotedly. And I loved you. You came closer inside my heart than any other living being, and did not find me wanting. I adored your wildness, and never wanted to tame you, as others had tried to tame me, to fit me into tight little boxes from which I repeatedly clawed my way out.


Your protection eased my longing,
your devotion never faltered.


You didn't want to leave me, but at fourteen years you could no longer stay. Even when your back and hips and legs gave out, you still tried to hang on. It was the hardest goodbye I have ever endured, and it has lasted the longest. When I say I mourned you more than the loss of the wilderness, you'll have some idea of what a large absence you left behind. I thank you for all those wonderful years. I carry you within now, the way your spirit carried me through our most glorious years together. Years when our hearts knew pure joy, when we loved what we loved together, trail and shore and wild wild waves. Years when


your joy brought me laughter,
your love brought me rest.

Wolf Howls in My Heart

Pup

In my dream last night,

we found each other.

You had been waiting for me

for so long.

We were happy to be together,

my hand roughed your neck fur,

you buried your forehead

against my knees,

as you always did,

to greet me.

You had been managing alone,

but were in need of care,

scruffy, with long fur 

matting between your paws.

I ached for the time

you had spent with no one 

to take care of you.

I woke up, I went about smiling,

one could say happy,

definitely grateful for

all of my blessings.

But I miss you, still,

and always.

I carry you within,

a big black wolf,

alongside my inner wolf woman,

and when I think about

how large is your absence,

in my heart 

we both give

a silent mournful howl.

One Year Today

It was one year ago today, old pal of mine, that you barked to go out and, stepping over the sill, your hind end gave way, collapsing to one side, then the other.

I had known these were our last weeks, and now the moment had come. It was time.

As was your habit, you barked all the way to the vet's, excited, thinking we were going walkies. But when we backed up to the door of the vet's, you lay flat and I had to drag you out, with treats as an incentive to walk through those doors one last time. Believe me, I never wanted to.

You didnt want to go either. You resisted the sedatives with all of your considerable will, as I sat on the floor with you, my hand stroking your head, just being there with you, for the very last time. I knew you had been the creature I was closest to on this earth, and the one who loved me most, and that now I would be alone. But even though I had tried those last two years to brace myself for this parting, I had no idea how big your absence would be. You had been such a large, noisy, hilarious, imperious Presence.

I couldnt stand walking away and leaving you there. I couldnt stand the thought of your beloved body going into the fire. I hated to think of your spirit seeing me walk away, thinking I had abandoned you there.

When I got back home, the neighborhood had fallen eerily silent. All of the neighbors said they actually missed your barking.

Some mornings later, as I was waking, I felt your nose on the edge of my bed, and you whuffed at me, as you always did to wake me. As I rose through the layers of sleep, I felt and heard you and dissolved in tears. I was so grateful for that visit, but it also showed me the size of what I had lost.

When I came back to the vet's, and she handed you to me in a small little cardboard box, I lost it. Your big, noisy, vibrant indomitable presence transformed into a small bag of ashes in a small container. Horrible.

I got you a special urn, I made you a special spot, with the blanket you slept on your whole life, your favorite toys, your collar and leash, your treats. But I dont feel you there. I dont feel you anywhere, and that has been the hardest thing to bear.

And, just so you know, I havent been to the beach or the river or the forest since you could no longer accompany me. I will miss you most in those places, where for fourteen years I never walked alone.

But I am beginning to wonder if, now that one year has passed, I might just find you there, where your spirit and mine were happiest and most free. I'm going to go and walk the river, old pal of mine, and remember the hundreds of times I watched you swimming there, and how you'd grin at me and bark for treats, in your demanding way. I'll toss a few along its banks. Give me a sign if you're there, okay?

I miss you, buddy. Today, that's the only truth I know. And I always will.

When You Love a Wild Thing 2

When you love a wild thing

your heart becomes wild too.

You gallop together joyously

along deserted beaches

to the roar of the waves

with an exultant song

of freedom in your heart.

You track through old growth forests,

padding gently on the mossy floor,

alert for other critters

in the bush.

You walk the beach

to the moo of Lennard's Light,

in fog so thick that others' voices

are disembodied spirits

that emerge, startled and laughing,

when you get close.

When you love a wild thing,

your heart soars with eagles

and is tethered to the land

only by love.

When you love a wild thing,

the bond of devotion

runs deeper than any human

you have ever encountered

was capable of.

And when you lose a wild thing,

your heart resists

its return

to being tame.

An aubade

The prompt at Real Toads is to write an aubade, which is a morning song of parting.
Timely prompt, as I have been thinking along these lines of late.

The pines, darkly shrouded
in morning mist,
line the river
like guardians of the wild.

The water roars its winter fury,
white spray tumbling
over rocks
and through the narrow
rock-walled chasm,
green with the river's passage,
all these years.

An eagle surveys all
from his perch atop
a giant cedar.

And me? I walk in sorrow
along your favorite river,
holding your leash
and still - always - missing you.

Do you feel me,
searching for your spirit,
lost in the absence
of your soft
padding footsteps
by my side?

How many sad walks
along the river
will it take
before there are no tears?
Your being gone
is still too big
an absence,
and it has nearly been
one year.

Partings and Reunions

Oprah showed the youtube clip today  of Christian the Lion's reunion with the two young men, Ace and John, who raised him as an orphaned cub in England, until he grew too big to keep. The men returned Christian to Africa, where George Adamson (of Born Free fame) agreed to reintroduce the lion to the wild. I had seen it before, months before Pup died.

A year later, the young men traveled to Kenya, hoping to see Christian again. They were warned that the lion was now fully integrated into the wild and likely would not remember them, that it could even prove dangerous. They went anyway. There is a link to the reunion, below, which makes me cry every time I see it.

The total joy of their reunion, the strength of their connection, the inter-species love, trust and joy, wonderful as it is to witness,  just breaks my heart. This was the kind of greeting Pup gave me on return from being away. He, too, stood on his hind legs and tried to hug me, as Christian did Ace and John. It is hard to know that will never happen again in this life, when I so wish it could.

But I also have to believe that one day, we will meet again. Just before Pup died, I told him that when I die, I want him to come and get me. The way the energy in the room changed, I knew he understood, as he understood everything. He had a human intelligence inside that black fur body, and his gaze penetrated more deeply than other dogs in my life, or humans either, for that matter. It was like he saw inside me. Our connection was deeper than I have had with any other being. And he loved me better, too, than any other being ever has.

I miss my boy tonight. I'd better not watch this video again for a while. It about does me in.

And today Faiza asked me, for the first time, the big question. Her husband, Bill, is on palliative care, but Faiza has had a hard time wrapping her mind around this reality. I have been worried that she doesnt realize how close to the end we are.

Their dog Lara has stopped eating. Faiza said to me, "Does Lara know something we dont know? Do you think it will be soon?"

I looked at her and said, honestly, but gently, "Yes, I think it will." Poor Faiza. I expect very debilitating grief and collapse once Bill dies. She has pushed herself beyond exhaustion, in her efforts to care for him and see him through. But once he is not there, it is going to be very tough for her. And for Lara. I expect I will be her main support, then,  as she doesnt really have anyone else.

And Bill? He made me cackle like a witch this morning. He asked the care aide to adjust the oxygen tube attached to his nostrils.

The care aide asked, "In your nose?"

"No..." said Bill, sarcastically, "blow it up my ass!" and I just cracked up. He gave me a faint little smile, to show the old fighting spirit was still in there. When I told Faiza she laughed so hard.

People - laughter - tears -  lions - dogs - love - hearts - connection - all pretty wondrous.

Here's the clip. Warning: be prepared to cry!

http://animal.discovery.com/videos/a-lion-called-christian-christian-the-lion-reunion.html

Wild Wolf of the Western Sea

[Joy at the beach - Pup jumping for a treat]

Your feet come galloping

through my dreams,

wild wolf of the sea

and the western wind.

Our souls rejoice

near the ocean's song,

where we explore,

where we belong.

In nightly visits

your wild eyes gleam,

your feet galloping

through my dreams.

*************************

and as a sort-of pantoum:

Your feet come galloping

through my dreams,

wild wolf of the sea

and the western wind.

Through my dreams

our souls rejoice,

in the westward wind,

near the ocean's song.

Our souls rejoice,

as we explore,

near the ocean's song,

where we belong.

As we explore,

in nightly dreams,

where we belong,

your wild eyes gleam.

In nightly visits,

wild wolf of the sea,

your feet come galloping

through my dreams.



Notes: Hmmmmm. I wrote this first version, then attempted to turn it into a pantoum, which it didn't want to do very easily. I will post both, and you can tell me which you prefer. I prefer the first version. I think my lines are too short here to be effective as a pantoum. Plus I had to fudge the last two lines to make it work.

Finding the Shine

When sorrow comes,
the wise woman said,
let go of the pain,
let go of the guilt,
know that you did
all that you could,
that all is
as it should be,
because it cant be
otherwise,
and then the pain
in your heart
will be replaced by
"a light shining with love."

I am holding my heart
in gentle hands,
trying to rub off
the raw places,
polishing that
shine into
the domicile where you live.
I will carry it
to the river
where we
always walked
together.
I will weep along
the path strewn 
with autumn leaves,
this first autumn
without you
by my side.

I will ask
the golden sun
to teach me
how to find
that shine.

When You Love a Wild Thing

This is for a prompt at Real Toads: to take a quotation from Breakfast at Tiffany's:
I chose this one, (of course)!

"...you can't give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they're strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That's how you'll end up, ...[i]f you let yourself love a wild thing. You'll end up looking at the sky."


— Truman Capote (Breakfast at Tiffany's: A Short Novel and Three Stories)
 
When you love
a wild thing,
you're rekindling
your kinship
with the wild.
 
Every cell
in your body
remembers
when you once
lived free
upon the land,
when you
lived
the Old Ways
we once
used to
understand.
 
Part of you
remembers
when you
hunted the deer,
and part remembers
when you were
the deer
being hunted.
Both sides
know fear.
 
The part of you
that catches
your breath
while your heart
quickens,
when that
old gray whale
turns her
ancient eye
on you,
is the part
that recognizes,
but can't
put words to,
the message
in her
mournful song,
about this
planetary home
where we all
belong.
 
I gave my heart
to a wolf-pup,
his eyes
intelligent
and true.
He loved
me more
than anyone
I ever knew.
 
He remained
wild,
but left
both
wilderness
and sea.
In order
to be with me
he relinquished
being free.
 
And when
it came
his time
to leave,
he tried
so hard
to stay.
Since he's
been gone,
it's like
the wilderness
itself
has gone
away.
 
Now
when I walk,
yes,
I'm looking
at the sky.
I'm listening
at each full moon
for his lonely
cry.
 
I walk
the length
of his favorite river
with tears
that we're apart.
But I'm glad
I loved a wild thing
because he
fortified
my heart.

Ghost Shadow

My boy Pup, at the river

You pad

soft and silent

through my dreams.

Your spirit comes

to me,

some mornings,

and you

rest your nose

on the side

of my bed,

and whuff,

as you used to do,

to wake me,

all the mornings

of your life.

Your absence

is a Presence

in my every

waking hour.

Your footsteps

will walk

forever

in my heart.

A Big Black Dog

for the Poets United prompt: Animals. Of course,

you know  the first animal who came to my mind.

He was

a little black puppy

who turned into

a big black dog.

He howled like a wolf

each morning

when I left for work,

spat the treat I gave him

as a bribe

disdainfully on the floor,

with a look of utter betrayal,

that I was leaving.

He was over joyed

each afternoon

when I came home again.

Now, he would

deign

to eat the treat,

still lying

on the floor.

Celebration time!

Into the car

and off to the beach we'd go,

him galloping

far ahead,

leaping over logs,

sniffing the tideline,

falling over his

big puppy feet.

When I sat on a log,

he'd start to dig,

throwing sand behind him

till he had a

cool little bowl

to curl up in.

When I had

a gentleman caller,

he'd steal a pair

of my underpants

from the bedroom

and gambole
gleefully
with them
through

the living room ,

me in hot and flushed

pursuit.

When we went

to the lake,

he stole

a long trailing

ribbon of weiners

from a family having a picnic

and skulked away with them,

guilty but determined,

into the woods.

He chewed up

my eagle feather,

and buried his

pig ears

in my potted plants.

When I told him No,

he buried them

in the BACK of the plants,

where it was harder

for me to see.

He lifted off the

pillows I used to

keep him off

my new couch,

tossed them on the floor,

then napped
luxuriously 

on his back

with his paws in the air,

all askew.

He was a handful.

When we drove anywhere,

for fourteen years,

he barked at me non-stop:

Hurry up, let's get there!

People driving behind us

told me

it looked hilarious,

me driving the car,

turning my head

to admonish him,

his big old jaws,

turned towards me:

bark, bark, bark!

He loved to race

ahead,

along the beach

and down the forest trails.

But he always knew

just where I was

and he'd circle back to check

on me.

He wouldnt come

when I called.

He'd return

when he was ready.

He led me

a merry chase.

It was clear

that I was the one

on the end of the leash!

He dragged me
around
for years,
me pleading fruitlessly,
"Dont pull me!"

It took him fourteen years
to mellow.

But he dogged
my every step.

His eyes
followed me

everywhere.

I was his world,

and he was mine,

one creature in this world

who loved me

unconditionally,

with a true heart,

who didnt leave,

who never

turned away.
One creature
for whom
I was
Enough.

Though his body

began to fail

and his pace slowed,

his wolfish spirit

remained strong,

completely wild

and free.

He embodied
the wild,
and shared
my love of
the sea.

And

I never knew

how lonely

walking could be,

till he was no longer

walking along

with me.

Spirit Wolf

You were my wolf-pup,

my companion

and my guardian.

I will have

no other

like you

in my life,

for such

special beings

come to us

but rarely,

and I knew

the whole time

how great

your loss

would be.

For years

our spirits

ran and played

together

along the

forest trails

and by the sea.

In later years,

forced onto

tamer paths,

and at a

slower pace,

you missed the wild

but gave it up

to be with me.

Your spirit strong,

your love for me

unwavering,

you followed me

to the very last

breath

of your life.

You resisted

death,

you didn't want

to leave me,

but it came,

to ease your pain

and set

you free.

It felt

impossible

to walk away

that night

and leave you.

It had always

been us,

and now it was

just me.

I love you

and I miss you

beyond telling.

Somehow I

simply have to

now believe

that you are still

my guardian,

my companion,

that somehow

your spirit 

still walks along

with me.