She-wolf from the southern mountains
Your clawed scratch
Why did you roam north
Tearing at the earth, your coat thickening with each progressive latitude?
You were hungry for a rarity which was slowly defining itself.
You moved across the land, in solitude
Met only by desirous eyes
No beast approached you, for fear of your singularity.
So you turned those eyes back towards them, infused now with an empathy
An ignorant offering those strangers gifted you.
We each pick up our implements
Imbue them with love or hate.
We rustle past one another, in the thick darkness of an ancient forest.
We sense each other, in the polished glass waiting for light to reveal its mirror.
Too rarely do we reach through the underbrush and breathlessly wait to witness
Whether we will be received by tongue or by teeth.
The She-wolf approaches a vast herd of black sheep
We are a purple blanket cloaking the northern marshes.
This land breathes an autumnal fog
So thick we need only to drink the air, as moss does.
The She-wolf sucks fog between tongue and teeth, tasting the herd, dreading they might run.
Your clawed scratch tests the surface of our skin
You ask methodically with tongue and teeth and lips
If you might swallow a piece of us.
We willingly sacrifice our fear to you and discover through the ritual
That a new dis-order is forming
The most rare of arrangements which is spawned from near destruction
The most rare of arrangements in which all who partake have chosen their place.