TAKAYA, In the Spirit World

Takaya, beloved by Vancouver Island residents,

killed by a hunter March 24, 2020

TJ Watts photo

CHEK News photo

For eight years, you loved me,

watched me, told stories about me,

listened to my songs.

I was your connection

to the wild,

to Mystery,

to a world in which you have

forgotten you belong.

You love wolves, you say,

yet hunters are allowed

to kill us every year.

"It's legal," they justify.

But is it right?

Of you, my kind

lives in great fear.

We live in peace.

We stay as far away from Man

as we can.

But you have left us little space

in which to be.

And every time there is a choice

of territorial rights,

you choose you

and murder me.

That day, I was

enjoying the sun.

I had not eaten yet;

the day had just begun.

I smelled his presence,

but other humans

had been kind.

The bullet hit me with such shock.

He left only my tag

behind.

I see some of you have tears

that I am gone.

It was prescience,

the lonely notes

you heard last winter

in my song.

Takaya's last smile, taken

two days before he was killed

TJ Watts photo - the last photos

taken of him alive -

so relaxed and trusting

His tag

for my prompt for Day 6 at Real Toads: Speaking In the Voice of Another

Takaya lived for eight years on a small island within swimming distance of Victoria. All this past winter, people heard his lonely howls. In March, whether looking for food or seeking a mate, he swam to the city and trotted down the city street. I feared for him. Because he was so beloved, they did not dare to kill him, as is the usual case in such situations. They tranquilized him and released him in unfamiliar territory, which usually spells a death sentence for a wolf, in other wolves' territory. But, as usual, it was a human, a trophy hunter, who killed him. Hunters are allowed to kill two wolves a year.

We know it was Takaya, because he was the only wolf on Vancouver Island with a yellow tag. It broke the hearts of many. WHEN will humans evolve enough to allow wild creatures the same right to live we claim for ourselves? Asking for my friend Takaya.

Dreams and Visions

Wonderful art by Catrin Welz-Stein

with permission

Between Wild Woman's heart

and the moon so high above

is a space filled with

dreams and visions

she keeps

thinking of.

A world of earthlings

longing for harmony,

social justice,

sustainability and peace,

a human race

that feels forsaken,

hopefully

emerging from this

frightening time

purposeful and

awakened.

"Historically, pandemics have forced humans to break with the past and to imagine their world anew. This one is no different. It is a portal,  a gateway between one world and the next.

"We can choose to walk through it, dragging the carcasses of our prejudice and hatred, our avarice, our data banks and dead ideas, our dead rivers and smoky skies behind us. Or we can walk through lightly, with little luggage, ready to imagine another world. And ready to fight for it."

- Arundhati Roy

for Bjorn's prompt at Real Toads on Day 5: Space / Time

Hard to think of much else than the virus these days. I am stunned and horrified by the number of cases and deaths in the USA. Each one heartbreaking to everyone concerned. Stay safe everyone.

A Pantoum of Little Foxes

source

I want to write for you a pantoum of little foxes,
a pantoum of little foxes, sweet and wild,
curled up, safely sleeping, at the base of a tree
a pantoum of little foxes, to make you smile.

A pantoum of little foxes, sweet and wild,
bright eyes winking, tails bushy and brushed,
a pantoum of little foxes, to make you smile,
hidden in the forest,  mother-held and hushed.

Bright eyes winking, tails bushy and brushed -
is there anything more beautiful and sweet,
hidden in the forest, mother-held and hushed,
or scampering, on happy little feet?

Is there anything more beautiful and sweet,
curled up, safely sleeping, at the base of a tree,
or scampering on happy little feet?
Here's a pantoum of little foxes just for you, from me.



for The Sunday Muse  and shared with  earthweal,  for the sheer relief of posting something there that isnt my usual doom and gloom. LOL.

Wild Woman Is Coming With a Message

Delightful Art Cards by Catrin Welz-Stein

Wild Woman is coming this April
with a message:
"Use your time well," she says,
"for it is fleeting."

Under the earth, a space is growing,
a soft bed for an old woman
who is slowly hobbling towards it.

Meanwhile, it is April.
There are poems to write
and books to create.

I am listening for all the messages
Wild Woman will bring.
I am listening well.

Wild Woman Speaks With Trees

Wild Woman woke up mid-life,
finding herself squished into a too-small box
of other peoples' needs and expectations.
Her years were hastening by,
zoom-zoom.
Her eyes followed the raven,
heart aching and lifting in sympathy
with her flight and freedom.
All  her dreams were of leaving.

Eventually, she had to head out to
an island.
She built her house of driftwood,
leaving the roof open to spaciousness
and sky.
She embraced silence with relief,
communing only with
a big black wolf
and the speaking trees.

They told her everything
she needed to know.


for Day 3 at Real Toads: Existentialism

Wild Woman on Borrowed Time

Wild Woman spent years
walking down a street
and falling in a hole.
The same street.
The same hole.

Then came the middle years
when, mercifully, she stopped falling
long enough to look around
and enjoy the scenery.

Now she walks with a cane,
slowly, tap tap tapping
like the beat of a little tomtom,
or a heart on borrowed time,
looking up,
seeing all the beauty that ever was,
and ever will be,
and smiling.


Day Two at Toads: Taking It to the Streets. 

The prompt is to write a poem one could use as street art. But this month, Wild Woman is dictating. I don't argue, I just write down what she says. That's the rules. LOL.

Wild Woman Wakes Up

Image by Catlin Welz-Stein

Her work is available here.

Wild Woman is stirring,
stretching a dusty wing.
She is preparing to make a journey
through the heart of spring.
She's no fool
- though she can be fooled -
and she has teachings to bring.

I place my fingers on the keys,
her words to transcribe and keep.
I utter one small request to her:
please don't go back to sleep.


And off we go. My hope is that Wild Woman will show up during the month of April and I will have a book of Wild Woman poems at its end, third in the trilogy: When You Love a Wild Thing, Songs to Mother Earth and Wild Woman Poems.

Linking joyfully  with the Imaginary Garden With Real Toads,  whose prompt today is: Fool.