Monday, December 11, 2006

Wolf ~~ anna hood ~~

Sometimes,
just before dawn
when aspens quiver
with the first breath of day
I hear them
my brothers, as they cry
their unknown names to the wind.

I leave my nest of down
leave my warm place where words gather
into clumps of futile thoughts
where Vivaldi’s notes tremble
among spider plants that line my window
where paint tubes hold unspilled portraits
of burnished suns or peonies lush
and fleshy as plump bathers
and I go out into the dawn
where the gaunt landscape shivers.
I shed my soft woman body
leave my conscience
my useless guilt and worry at the door
join them in the hunt.

They’re there, outlined
against the glowering sky
tongues lolling from smiling mouths.
Raindrops cling to their ruffs, their tails
the wild scent of them.
The pups, there are 2,
nearly grown and eager, yip with excitement.
We’re hungry, bellies tucked tight
against our ribs.
We touch noses
then we’re off, our legs tireless
strong.

We travel an ageless path
along a sharp ridge where the wind slices
slivers of pewter clouds
hangs them in spruce trees.
Rock cliffs rise in layered pastels.
The purple and gold meadow
blooms with cellophane petaled buttercups
and violets. Fox kitts play.
We drink from the spring where the river is born.
The sun comes out heat shimmers
in rainbows across the valley.
The miles pass. Our hunger grows.

And then we find them
a small herd of caribou rest in a clearing.
We crouch low, heads down
bellies scraping the earth
as we circle downwind until
until it is too much to bear and one of us
with a golden tongue starts the race.
The earth pounds
with their heartbeats, with ours.
An old cow falls behind.
In seconds we are on her.
Three of us slash her hind legs, two her throat.
It is quick; she is ready,
ready to give us this bounty
ready to meld with us and become us.
She drops to her knees as her heart bleeds
its gift into our mouths.

We stop our race
we drop our heads and eat.
Teeth tear into still warm red meat.
Blood stains our muzzles; our belly fills.
After, we the pack, roll on our backs
in the morning sun.

And I have no conscience.
And I have no guilt.
And I know I will never
be the same again.

15 Comments:

Blogger Roberta said...

And I know I will never
be the same again.

Nor will I, Dear Anna, having read it, having lived it.

This is absolutely breathtaking.

3:40 PM  
Blogger Saaleha said...

along a sharp ridge where the wind slices
slivers of pewter clouds
hangs them in spruce trees.

my favourite line. Stunning! but now I'm scared, lest you expect my heart to 'bleed it's gift into your mouth' ;)

As always, wonderful!

10:42 PM  
Blogger Susan Abraham said...

Beautiful & enlightening.
Just like you, darling.
Dear Anna, thank you for the ducklings.
I'm back now.
Let me work my way slowly downwards to your other poems in these next few days.

By the way, this narrative poem reminds me of the famous English novelist Henry Williamson who wrote famous country tales, very much in this vein. So today, it would have been Mr. Williamson who would have celebrated your poem. :)

12:02 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh wow, Anna! What else does one say. It's breathtaking. Please, please put your poems in a book and have them published - I want an autographed copy!

I love, "where paint tubes hold unspilled portraits" oh, yes!

Do so love connecting to that inner wolf, or is it the inner werewolf? :-)

2:39 AM  
Blogger anna said...

Roberta, shall we hunt together?
thanks my sweetheart!

Saaleha, not to worry about the bleeding heart LOL! thanks dear one for the beautiful comment!

Ah Suze! I am so glad to see you back. I have no idea who Henry
Williamson is - shall have to look him up. Thanks so much for stopping by.

Chicken Little - such a wonderful comment - thank you for fluttering in. As for publishing, I am much too lazy and unsophisticated to venture into that arena. Those suckers are Draconians for sure.
(btw your blog is acting up this morning; won't let me comment. will try again in a bit)

Turkey Lurkie

5:34 AM  
Blogger apprentice said...

Get pace in this, you get the sense of the momentum of the hunt.

It has a lovely timeless feel to it, like an ancient fairytale.

You capture the flower really well too.

I wonder if it even needs the last verse.

6:07 AM  
Blogger anna said...

Apprentice, thanks so much!
perhaps you are right - that last verse might be a bit redundant. I shall think on this for a bit but yes I do think you are right - it does need a little something but maybe just one word
like replete but not that..
got an idea??

6:25 AM  
Blogger Bernita said...

Again, excellent, Anna!

6:57 AM  
Blogger anna said...

as always Bernita, thank you!!

7:05 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yes I agree ,maybe one last line. I've read wolves either bide with the pack, or go out on their own. They therefore split into biders and dispersers.

Maybe something like:

Sated, with no urge to stray,
let me bide with you a while

1:05 PM  
Blogger jason evans said...

This line was another one of those amazing surprises:

where Vivaldi’s notes tremble.

There is always a potent freshness to your writing, Anna. Always a pleasure to experience.

2:02 PM  
Blogger anna said...

Apprentice, yes thanks again.
good idea. Laughing over biders
and dispersers !!

and Jason
I love that Vivaldi tremble too.
thank you so much - I appreciate it HUGELY

3:04 PM  
Blogger anna said...

atyllah, if by chance you check back here I have tried and tried to leave a comment re turkeys
I am a huge expert on them being married to one - yes he adores small children. He prefers them baked; I know I know, it tends to toughen them but he's got a strong beak and being a little bit anal prefers things well done even if they are dry.
i am swearing like a VULGARIAN at your blog@4&$#

5:37 PM  
Blogger Dafath said...

there is a wolf in me ... fangs pointed for tearing gashes ... a red tongue for raw meat ... and the hot lapping of blood--I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.
Carl Sandburg

3:17 AM  
Blogger anna said...

Love Carl Sandburg and haven't heard this before
Thanks Bear!

3:47 AM  

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