Cry of the Wolf

Prologue

I slowly stalk the barren beast, exhausted.
My gut a blank page, my heart throbbing.
I’m simply out of time.
Finish off my prey, or
turn in empty handed.

Pacing back and forth, walking meditation
calms my inner wolf focusing my mind.
There is nothing but IT and I.
My breathing, it holding its breath.
One would have to give.

And then … howling with inspiration
I embraced the soul of my query
grasping its potentially vibrant life.
I dared to be mindful &
wrote down this elusive epic.

I. Serena

A shadow of a wolf passes by
startling me from the mindful high
this retreat has seduced me into.

My adrenaline suddenly spiked
before I realized - its not about me
but rather the pleasant group of deer

I was admiring just now,
so simple, so close, so dear
unlike my far, flung family.

The wolf stops! He turns his cold,
shallow eyes narrow-mindedly on me,
surveying me, warning me.

Frozen in the present moment, forever,
I must dare myself to be mindful &
witness the brutal last line.

II. Kano

A shadow of a wolf passes by
like death. Scares the bejeezus out of me.
I’m on hyper-alert since besting

the old man and taking the mantle
of protecting the herd, my herd.
Be diligent or die.

I have prepared for this.
    I have practiced for this.
        I have fought for this.
            I have achieved this.

The wolf is close,
the smell of evilness
permeating the air.

Even the tourist on the trail knows
I am the brutal last line
of defense.  Bring it!

III. Amarog

A shadow of a wolf passes by
and I am amazed it’s so thin.
Urgency is foremost in my mind.

Reintroduction to the wild
is not the Rocky Mountain high
they promised me (while apologizing!)

as they turned me out (still apologizing)
into the wild I never knew.
Now I must take food.

My primitive new life depends on it.
My tired, spent wife depends on it.
My three hungry pups depend on it.
Hell.  My species depend on it.

I don’t want to take on
that 12 point bad ass buck
who’s gunning for my gut,
but I have nothing else left.

Maybe I can peal off one of the young
and hope it doesn’t rack me
with guilt the rest of my life.
I stop dead in my tracks.

A new scent - there up on the trail.
Walker or Killer?  Hiker or Rancher?
I focus a stare trying to tip her hand
but only get a frozen response.

Gambling I move forward. 
I must dare to be mindful &
not be the brutal last of my line.

IV. Sampson

A shadow of a wolf passes by.
I have not smelled one in years.
Could it be my failing senses?

Instinct: Flight or Fight? Decide!

But I’m no longer the Sampson
that gets to decide — he is &
I smell the fright in his eyes.

The wolf is on the ridge
staring down a naïve human.
Will she scare him off?

No such luck.
He must be desperate.
He will get one of us.

Our leader has rallied
and is preparing to fight,
but he must not be lost.

With mindfulness, I feign
a broken ankle and prepare
to be the brutal last line.

V. Gaia

A shadow of a wolf passes by
momentarily blackening the sky.
Some whispered the old legends
of impending prosperity;

some supported a beastly lore
portending a cataclysm coming soon;
the pious proclaimed it was merely God.
The debate lasted ages

but was forgotten by noon,
long before the bountiful host
crashed, endowing our meadow
with unimaginable nutrients.

It was hard on the micro-immigrants
suddenly reintroduced into the wild,
a transformation they never expected.
Leave it the ants to show them

the path with a beautiful last line.

Epilogue

A shadow of a girl passes by
in columbine covered hills
fearlessly off the path
collecting a bouquet for Nana

who smiles taking in the robustness
of life spread on this very spot
where she awoke and knew
interconnectedness.

— Craig Cowden