Pssst! Are you there?
Is it your eye that sparkles and shines?
I hear just a hum, the flip of the tongue, the verses that circle in rhymes…
The day has laid still, the clock ticked on by, the room was left empty; earthen and dry.
But isn’t this change the constant we know? Isn’t what comes, always sure to go?
Listen once more, she awakens, she growls…
The woman has risen and she’s on the prowl.
She walks through the forest, dress sweeping the ground
Her feet are unshackled and face is unfrowned.
Her hair wisps past her hips, eyes glow in the night,
She cries to the moon, bearing souls she incites.
Her appetite ravished, her eyes glaring gold,
Her fire immense and her beauty untold.
She lives in our blood as it flows through our veins,
When we falter and trip, she steps to the reins,
Though the pathway falls hidden, overgrown and unkept,
We pick up her scent and can follow her steps.
Author’s note: “This poem is largely inspired by the book Women Who Run With The Wolves, the wild and intuitive nature that lives in all women, and the sisterhood [pack] that surrounds and sustains us.”
By Claire Stevenson-Blythe
