The Wolf

Poems for World Lupus Day

When I decided to do the Open University Creative Writing course, I was so intimidated by the idea of the poetry module that I phoned up the course team and asked if it was possible to complete without doing the poetry TMAs – and I allowed myself to be talked into giving it a try.

Since then I have occasionally written a poem or two to exercise my writing muscles, but I’m not ever going to be a poet.

The Wolf
 
The wolf is back. Her skittering shade
Dances beyond my line of sight.
Hot red cheeks bear witness, with inlaid
Brocade-like stain on skin exposed to light.
 
Pacing this cage of aching flesh and bone
She howls her rage. Restless insomniac,
Stalking my every wakeful hour, as I alone,
Defenceless, weary, brace for fresh attacks.
 
Possessed, I snarl then whimper.
She dogs my every step; … has me by the scruff.
Cold nose, warm heart they say but I am bitter.
The biter bit. No more, I plead. Enough.
 
Will this onslaught never end? My enemy,
My dearest friend, I can’t escape or kill. The wolf is me.

Wolf, tamed

Padding round and around until the perfect spot
Invites her to settle, find warmth back to back –
Defensive but safe. still vigilant, nerves taut
Alert but not hyper. Wolf rests in her pack.

Gentled by stories, tales truer than truth
Of witches and dragons, and how we must give
Ourselves to the hunt. Old lessons from youth –
Trust self and trust others is how we muct live.

Stitch pain into patterns in fabric and thread.
Wolf curled at my feet, with peace in our hearts.
Up hills and by shoreline, together we tread,
Mothered by nature, and set free by art.

The wolf never leaves me. Together we strive –
Not feral, not tamed, quite; she helps me survive.

Ann