Wolf Wisdom

"You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed."
Excerpt from The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery - prompt from Real Toads.

I lived with a wolf

for fourteen years.

I found him in the wild,

where he was trying

to survive

as a baby, on his own.

I took him home

and he lived

in a house with me

for the rest of his life.

But his spirit

-and mine-

belonged solely

to the wild.

He made

these adaptations

to be with me.

In return,

every afternoon

I took him

in search

of wilderness trails,

rushing rivers,

the ocean's shore.

Tail up,

alert for the scent

and sound

of critters

in the bush,

he'd race before me,

looping back

from time to time,

to check on me,

then off he'd go again,

forever chasing

that enticing
and elusive

wildness

that coursed through

his soul,
and traveled always
before him,
luring him
just a little bit
farther
down the trail.

When he died,

his death 

awakened

my inner wild

wolf-woman,

who had been sleeping.

Now his spirit

lives within

my heart,

and I am

longing

even more

for our
shared wilderness.

I can feel him,

now Wild Woman,

wanting to

run through the bush.

I can feel him

wanting to

breathe

the salt sea air,
plunge into
its roiling waves.

I can feel him

wanting me to

flee this township

and return us

to our

wilderness home.

As much as

I tamed him,

insofar as

a wild creature
ever

allows himself

to be tamed,

he woke up

the wild

in me,

and now

Wild Woman

is singing

unstoppably

and

forever

through

my bones.

Wolfsong

[image from whitewolfphotos.blogspot.com]

He came to the mouth

of her cave

in the dead of winter,

peering tentatively in

at the warmth

of her 

crackling fire.

She sat still

as a stone

to invite him,

lifted a  bird-wing

towards him,       

higher,

shared her meal

with him,

their new

friendship a-borning;

slept and wakened,

finding him 

still there

in the 
morning.

Together

they wandered 

springtime

forest trails,

sought summer fields

of richly golden grain,

roamed

wild beaches

lashed with storm,

sheltered from 

the lashing rain,

hunted under

sunny skies,

loped across

the grassy range,

shared fish,

and rabbits,

birds and berries,
laughing
and joyous,

as the seasons
slowly 

changed.

They sat by

the fire

on lonely midnights,

howling at the moon.

But  warm summer

nights pass

quickly;

and the winter

comes

too soon.

His snout, her hair

turned white

with winter's chill.

His body grew

aged and weak,

as old bodies will.

They came to a fork

in the path

in the

rising dawn.

He stopped,

and turned

for one last look,

then  was gone.

His was the wolf path,

where a human

may not follow.

She took the path

to the right,

her heart

aching, 

and hollow.

She cried

with the fading

of the night's

last star,

whispered

"thank you"

to his fleeting back:
grateful

he had guided her

this far.

Sometimes,

now,

she can feel

his spirit

on the

rising wind.

Some nights

you can hear

her keening

on the air.

Then soft comes

a faint echo

from deep

in the mountains,

ringing.

When the moon is right

and the spirits awake,

you can

sometimes

hear them,

singing.