The Wolf’s Lair pt 5 – a poem series

***

Hungry, I see the dusty earth turn dark,

Soaking in the meagre first few droplets

Of rain, nourishing like nothing else,

Drizzle becoming downpour as I stalk

On, forward through aeons harbouring

Tenacious spirits.

*

“Cry for the earth, old water falling, mountains

Rising high to scrape a greyly bleak sky…”

I call to the clouds, conscious of time come

After too long dormant, ancient bitterness washed,

Crying for the earth, a hurt mother kept alone,

Unable to weep.

*

With or without help, this game is not over

Yet, too many lives sacrificed for more

Than what they are or might represent;

The sum of something outweighs it in isolation,

Singular examples playing about the edges,

To cast shadows upon the board of play.

*

The wolves gather, hunched shoulders, baleful eyes

Of many colours gazing deep into the quietly

Lying forest middle dreaming, a glade cleared

As if for this and this alone, these creatures

Huffing, thick fur soft, tough, beneath my palm

As they come to lick my hands with rough tongues.

*

Revenge is a dangerous game to play, this late

In the series of proceedings, for who shall

Answer to the crimes long ago committed?;

The pale perpetrators dead or fled, spirits

Of their unholiness all that is left, yet

Tis better to try eating the sun, than on

This dwell.

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