Yet Lovely

There's a kind of intimacy born
to horses, oceans, wolves and fire;
their large bodies stand between
this life and death,

strangely protective.  All that wildness
saying wildness doesn't purely exist
for survival, detachment, aloneness;

only stars can truly occupy this perfect
form of isolation.

For the lonely: you are merely broken.
For the mysterious: authenticate your beauty.
For the wretched: move slowly into light.
For the weightless: rise.

And then, a kind of truth subjugates
the instinct, the way a cougar follows
feral horses, the bear studies packs of wolf
or oceans imitate waves of fire
burning brightly, doomed yet lovely.


Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Every time I read your poetry, I always think it is The Truth.

RachelW said...

I needed this today.