Wild Woman
Being a wild woman—
one who loves fiercely,
devoted to her passions:
family, healing, peace.
A walking paradox.
I run with wolves,
strip myself bare and dive into the lake
suddenly, with abandon, without hesitation.
Sometimes craving the wild things
the edge of indulgence,
the scent of sweat on my chest,
on my mouth.
A painting, a work of art
never quite complete.
Things don’t always change by much,
even when they evolve…
Liberated, yet holding tradition.
Sleeping in softness,
dancing with independence.
Life is a whirlwind,
and I am here for the ride.
I leap into challenge,
add fuel to the fire,
stomp barefoot through the dust
just to feel the triumph.
At the same time, I crave quiet—
solitude,
the hush of birdsong outside my window,
while I’m wide awake and alive.
All my senses buzzing, vibrant,
nearly leaping from my skin.
I feel the pulse of the earth
beating in rhythm with my heart.
I don’t need to do anything
but be….soften,
and yield to that rhythm.
Listen. Tune in.
Why the pressure to do,
to accomplish,
to dive into life with force
instead of letting the waters
carry me to the place
I’ve ached to find—
the one I’ve longed for all along.
All the thoughts of having to—
if I don’t do this, that, and the other,
I’ll fall behind by minutes,
by days, by lifetimes…
To hell with the pressure.
To hell with the story
that tells me how I should speak,
what tone I must use,
or else…
Let my heart sing the screams,
hum the ache, moan the pleasure
without fear.
Without shame.
Let my voice spill out
soft or harsh,
authentic in every tone.
Let my milk spill.
Let it stain the floor.
Maybe I’ll feed it to the cats.
Maybe I’ll laugh at the mess.
To hell with the rules I imagined
that locked me in.
To hell with the thoughts
that buried my light.
Stories unworthy of my breath.
I am liberated.
I am wild.
My impulses do not define me.
My mistakes do not dim me.
My dreams chase after me.
Softness meets strength.
I am no longer a paradox.
I am whole.
I am a wild woman.
