This is a beautiful portrayal of Native American culture. I love the part where she bestowed wisdom to him.

Most people don’t know the ugly history of the US. They do not know of the ‘Trail of Tears’ and the forced march suffered by Native American peoples. And some think it was only the Cherokee on this ‘trail’. It included the Cree, Seminole, and Miccosukee, and other Tribes. Many thousands died along the way. This horror is part of what they want to erase from the history books.

My ancestors (a long ago Grandmother on my father’s side), were slaughtered by the Dutch. She was Lenape.

Thank you Mary, for sharing, it means a lot to me.

I love Native America, Native America tales, wisdom, music and wolves, their howls and cries. and like expected of their music, the one you’ve shared holds sadness within its layers. I amdire your poem for the simplicity yet the depth it has, normally longer poems don’t keep me along the reading, but here it’s different, I read it all with no pressure, it feels like home, the Native America home… the burnt sage caught me because it’s in my culture too.
the sheer wisdom and magnificence of the final two verses are for real something else. True loves comes when You find your own whole self, when You win your spiritual test and yes finds the home in You (how I love this phrase!) You don’t need someone to complete You, You want someone to share it with You. yet, even that the broken hearted wolf knows this truth, he also knows that sometimes You must feel it all to be able to let it go or pass to the new stage. a truly brilliant piece my friend ✨

That’s a beautiful expression of hope and yearning! The central metaphor of the garden, particularly the image of “putting my hands in your dark soil,” really captures a deep desire for creation and connection, even when starting “late in life.”

AWWW Valuptas, your are making me blush. I was going to go food shopping this morning but now I can’t, my face is too red. What will the neighbors think?? They will ask questions and then laugh. At some point, my face will return to normal, but until then, THANK YOU so much for being “pulled in”. OMG, I’m still blushing…. HELP!!! ;0)

The imagery of “lips spit fire, yet taste like Chardonnay” is such a vivid paradox, and the way you connect her kiss to both a visual “kaleidoscope of colors” and the sound of “psithurism” is beautiful. It makes the experience truly multi-sensory. Beautifully penned.

Hi Ms Valuptas, I would not want your royal “whispering” (unholy or otherwise), sitting in a jail cell. How else would I receive such beautiful comments?

For most of the poetry I write, I add music. I think it adds to the feel and meaning of the poem. Sade’s song “Kiss of Life” was a really good fit for this poem. And yes, I am “foxy”… er… I mean… damn, did I say that out loud? Actually, more “wolfy” than “foxy”. But you know, wolfs can be sly too. ;0)

Anyway, sorry about the couch. THANK YOU for the comment, the visit, and for making my poem feel special!

Now that is a thought. No distractions other than living your life. Very, very simple life

What I write! And done on the toilet! Lol
This is quite the masterpiece. I enjoyed all the back and forth. Like reading a tennis match.
Caveman vs the 21st century.
Well done!

Loved the ending!

I am somewhat jealous; my toilet poetry is usually flushed because of the brown streaks. You write of the ying and yang of individualism, the brown streaks versus what once was. We humans have lost touch with our origins. We once made cave art, danced and howled at the moon; where it was women who ruled the campfires. And in some ways, we were more intelligent than we are today. We could talk to animals and create myths about the formations in stars. We will never get back to this, but I do think we can create a society where we once again talk to animals and reach for the stars.

Your poem is thought-provoking and appreciated. Thanks for the share.
-Curt/redzone