The ceremony is the beginning and the end. Shape-shifting reveals her hidden desires. Wolves in the forest, life and death are interwoven. A foreign voice speaks; unrecognisable, yet it is her own. Smoke and mirrors, horrors and joys are interwoven. Dancing to a silent drum, the forest can feel the energy. Spirits of the dead rise as the world of the living and death blur. A cleansing of herself reveals a cleansing of the forest; they are the same.
Finding a Friend
Out there in the forest,
running from herself;
determined to hide from him,
even if her teeth rot out of her head.
She will not yield.
Crying alone in the forest;
a wolf appears in the distance
and she is caught off guard.
The tears stop.
She is lost in the fur of a hug and a kiss.
Found, she stands up and walks away;
for so much of her life, she ran from herself.
Now she walks with a friend.
The man with no heart can rot in hell.
a forest shrouded in my
warm winter dreaming
The forest is full of the sounds of snow-covered trees, scurrying creatures, and the hoot of an owl.
By the lambent glow of the lamp, a witch walks along carrying a song to the trees, the snow, and the Earth.
As she walks, trees bow, creatures dance, and the owl nods.
VSS: A Familiar
Running in the snow. The forest disorientates you.
The face of a wolf in the distance clams you. A familiar.
You slump against a tree.
Too young to freeze, yet too old to endure the middle of winter; distant voices sound.
You wake from a fever.
The cat licks you.
A Forest Spirit
Softly moving through the snow
No words left to say
A dark bond binds two
standing in the cold forest.
Death covers the ground.
Shunned for being different, blamed for the famine and the storms.
An ostentiferous girl with violet eyes and dark hair, a beauty not fit for this world, was sent to live in the forest.
Walking to forget, to find kindness and a warm home, she stumbled upon a beautiful tree with a wooden door.
Feeling as if nothing mattered, she opened the door, stepped inside, and left the cold lonely forest behind.
Haiku: Forest Spirit
The forest spirit
let me walk through the forest
without feeling fear.
Anchored: The Wolf and the Man
My mane is unbrushed and dirty,
there’s no snow for me to roll in.
My matted mane disgusts me;
once I was snow-covered, clean.
You saw me padding in the snow;
paw-prints, fur shaking, a look.
You caught me in your embrace,
free to be, yet anchored to you.
My soul remains free,
yet the cage you gave me is cosy.
I will stay if you take me back to
the snow, brush my mane clean,
and say the words you must say.