November
This is dedicated to the wolves, those canny creatures who know more than one way to dream a poem alive.
November
The wolf who howls me awake tonight
tracks along the edges of my winter’s sleep
to fool me into thinking I am
safe in my dream
he shadows me, and becomes my shadow falling
among the dancing leaves which race and scatter
along our narrowing path
until he leads me to turn and face November
that time of cutting windchange, and how it calls us
to tighten and curl as best we can
to prevent the dark sweep
the uncoupling of memory which waits
beyond this forest, this gauntlet of our waking
where the sharp crescent moon is a
clean scythe hung
in a dark and marbled sky
oh, how my hand reaches within its glove tonight
how my grasp longs to be denied, to release
those summers that can never return
the hot weighted pleasures
of unfinished desire which now must bow
to another Harvest moon gone, that one bright night
made from the bending
of reflection, of memory
which I will live again, and again, in times to come,
to recall like a wound — his absolving shadow falling
across my ungloved palm, and the grasp of it coming back
on the opposite caress
Elizavetta,
These words are so beautiful. Speaking of wolves, I’ve just picked up a copy of Women Who Run with the Wolves, and I’ve begun to see myself in the terms that a close friend recently shared with me; I want to be that lone wolf. So desperately.
xoxo,
nina
Nina,
Somewhere inside, la loba is tracking, always waiting…
Women Who Run with the Wolves should be required reading for all women between the ages of 12 and 120. Devour every word!
How sensually you give me goosebumps and shivers. Delicious words Elizavetta.
Sweet nina, you are a beautiful criatura. Elizavetta is wise, la loba shadows us all. If I had to save one book in a house fire, it would be this. It is magnificent and puts into words so exquisitely, every elusive feeling, knowing need I have ever experienced and promises more besides.
Here’s to wolves and the women who run with them.
Magdelena
Magdelena,
Yes, here’s to the wolves! And here’s to Clarissa Pinkola-Estes, and the power of writing one’s truth!
This one has beautiful sounds too. A wolf spirit evocation spell, rolls around in the mind. Your poetry shows great technical skill as well as trendous intelligence and passion and a natural feel for the language.
Paul,
This poem is one that is, for many reasons, a little too dear to me. And as such, it’s always been a problem child, a poem I often want to forget about but can’t. So, this comment means a great deal to me, though perhaps not in ways you might think. At any rate, thank you very much for taking the time to respond to it.