No one questioned the wolf’s alternatives
(if there was any other way
For a wolf to be born).
It is too easy to look at its glaring grin,
Feel the edge of its howl cutting into your bone
And prefer it dead over living.
No one said to the wolf
“Here, take this soft fuzz
Take these Big, bug-round eyes
Take these dulled and docile teeth,
I grant you the un-alarming geste
Of a rabbit.”
I was bomb
Catapult with violence
into an immense and darkening night.
It was not calm I was gifted, but
Claws— that I may fight my way out this night.
I was given teeth
And a loud song.
My eyes were never meant to be a warning;
When you see two rays emanating golden in the black,
Please know I, too, was born in fear of this dark.
But I can see now.
I thank Jehovah God
for this sight.
about// the survival tactics of a wolf.
