I used to tell my mom
I'm scared
when the wolves came calling out back
but really I was shy.
was ashamed to admit
all I wanted was to be one of them
to slip into their paw prints
feel the dewy night kissing my ears
to lift my face to the wolf gods,
their bodies reflecting my dark eyes

I'd scrabble through the stale snow,
run until my lungs were scorched
I'd follow until they let me in
to touch them
feel them
lick their cheeks,
winding into their memories
with a slightly steaming spool slowly spinning,
ready to gobble them up
and replace my own

I'd yap and howl the way they do
Leap; spine arched,
into their midst
and match their moon choked tones

I'd want to be a mystery
Have those feeble humans claim they know everything
about me
but really, they’d never even scratch the surface
of the wolf who gleams like ivory
of the wolf who streaks like fiery song
pulsing through the snow

I'd want to be the invisible; you know, that thing that’s watching you
bending through the slip of trees
the thing your eyes strain to find
the thing you wait all night to see

I want to have them look at me,
the ones who think they found me first,
I want the poets
the artists
and writers
to look into my face and say
how beautiful, those eyes
how brave or fierce or wise
and I would grin my wolfish grin
bare my snarling teeth on cue
ignore their stupid human stupor
knowing what they never would
that being a wolf is better than sitting alone
inside
waiting
for them
each night
to lure me with their round raw voices
their silver heart shaped faces
their unforgiving bodies tensing
tails whipping
hammered paws sailing
like white frost oceans
the kings and queens
searching for castles
among the rabble
rubble
waves

--Lily

On a balmy afternoon,
In the whisper of tall grass,
And faint sigh of breeze-stirred trees;
I feel His presence.*

~Hilda~

It was a drunkard
A lashed, mongrel affliction
That let you escape

The double stepped forth
He split the shadow in two,
He took me from you.

The sands fled from me
The ashes would fall beneath,
Waves went back to sea.

Rain feathers the ground,
Hooked, worms will tunnel to sun,
Robins on wet lawn.

Mary**
 
It was her sandelled foot
and bared calf I noticed.
She was kneeling.
 
A strong young woman
convinced in truth,
a plain flawless face
hair spilling out
under the required scarf.
In stone.
Larger than life-size.
Niched in the Chapter House.
 
Now I know her touch,
her attentive gaze,
her restless mind.

Beyond the tightly drawn silence
the truth lies resolute.
The silence;
disguised by nomenclatures
like an elusive smoke wave
disppears; so mystifying,
in our everyday.

Who is watching, but the wary?
Evoked by fear, sometimes impatience,
the eyes that wandering.
And some cower, secure under the shield
of substantial fashion it gleams;
the easy retreat.

Should I fight?
Dawn the lens that zooms in
to clarify the tomes I carry
that boast of the legacy of truth.
Unknowing if it will sooth.
Or should I just nod along,
turn the page and carry on,
without dwindling about circumstances
that shape or uproot.
Existence.

But, why do I question,
when I have already begun,
listening to silence.

Sometimes when ev'ning lamps are ebbing low
And all the earth lies hushed in solemn sleep
Within my lonely heart there burns a glow,
As lengthening shadows about me creep.

My weary glance falls o'er the dismal room
Where with rapturous eyes I seem to see
Beyond thick cobwebs, dust and direst gloom
A merry host of friends-my own library!

Worn musty books on shelves from olden days,
Brittle pages yellowed by hands of time,
Illuminating night with gladsome rays,
Lifting my bleak spirit to realms sublime.

Trooping merrily before my rapt gaze
Into flick'ring lamplight I watch them come,
Quaint men and ladies of forgotten days;
Golden laughter echoing in my home.

Into my eyes they smile, murm'ring with grace
Aerial speech they blithely chat with me,
They seem to belong to another race
Wakening in my heart sweet melody.

Dying lamplight sputters and they are gone.
Vanished! I stare about but find I none
Save a drowsy thrush flutes with hush of dawn
Only myself in the parlour alone.

~Hilda~