Under the watchful gaze of a wolf,
What will I do?
At the edge of the fire,
From out of the shadows we can no longer see,
They are watching me.
Their eyes glow amidst the flames.
They reflect the licking tongues, fading now.
Half-circled pack awaits,
At the edge of our circle.
What are they waiting for?
“What do you want?”
“What do you want from us?”
“What do you want from me?”
They do not answer with moves or snarls or barks.
They only watch.
Something lay there,
In those eyes.
Something I cannot see.
The past, forgotten instincts.
Histories untold and rewritten.
Age-worn wisdoms no longer sourcing through us.
The souls of philosophers long dead.
Ancestors from the unconscious predawn,
These beasts have come to look upon us.
Their eyes are burning.
I want to weep as they all finally begin to howl.
In their stand here,
Silence overcoming our language,
Stance overruling our heat,
Song overriding our self-hate,
They tell us:
Everything that is coming is what we deserve. ~