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Sep 2019
I have always thought myself some small part wolf
Not for teeth nor fur, mine are not so long as that
And before you laugh, not for tail either,
Maybe for my strong legs, but no
I am not wolf like you think of wolf
I only share in one thing, bask in it
Wolf and I, and our moon. How we love her
In the way that only wolves and women can
I was born under her, too. Her sign.
Mother called me moonchild, told me my eyes
Though brown as the dirt below me
Held all the light that reflected from her body
She is, to me, the anchor I tie my nights to
I reach to her the way the tides do; ceaselessly
Strange to think something so far
Can be held so close inside me
But I look at her and think of magic
Of spreading my arms and soaking up whatever brightness she can give
And when I look at her, when she is full-bellied
Joyous and content in her inky kingdom
I feel more wolf than girl
The music playing in my ears is still music
But it is also howling, echoing inside and out of me
Would that I could sing like they do,
Hoping that my small voice could carry to her
How lucky the stars to have that blessing
But still, she sets and takes my heart with her
And I nod at the sun and tilt my face into her gold beauty
But it is only a warm thing, only heat
There is no magic in her light for me
No music
And me, still, not even wolf
Not Hers enough to sing and be heard
Not enough of the Earth to plant roots elsewhere
Caught, as the tides are
As only wolves and women know how to be
Georgia Marginson-Swart
Written by
Georgia Marginson-Swart  22/F/London
(22/F/London)   
202
   Bogdan Dragos and Sekhar
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