I have known the wild.
There is a fierce joy there –
the desert air burns brightly.
I have been afraid.
I have dared.
How would it be, to live your life in sensible shoes,
in clothes that are neatly ironed? To wear a pale pink lipstick,
to spread it cleanly every morning? How would it be,
to build a cage out of cleaning, and polishing, and setting the table?
How would it be to wince at mud, and to watch the world
through a pane of glass? How would that be?
The wild calls.
There are forests and mountains,
nightclubs and music,
and the risk of rain.
There is the ocean, calling, constantly calling,
and the river that will take you there
starts here, at this bank.
Take off your shoes.
This is for Jilly at dVerse, who asks us to write about the Wild. And why not?