Saturday, January 16, 2016

"I met the wolf alone/ and was devoured in peace." Edna St. Vincent Millay

What is it that keeps me coming back to the wolf? Even my husband, I was drawn to him initially because he struck me as a wolf in sheep's clothing.

There's this moment in Moonstruck: I seen a wolf in everybody I met, and I see a wolf in YOU! 

For me, the wolf is that in us which is still wild. It's not good or bad. It's wild. It's a wolf. It might hurt you. It might amaze you. You might try to cage it up. But it will still howl.

My wolf is, among other things, a writer. I've been away from blogging for a while now. My wolf was sleeping for a while. Or gnawing on the same old bones hoping for a bit of sustenance. Or growing silently & practicing it's howl in a lonely forest. 

& I thought I was happier that way. But I wasn't. I wasn't my whole self. I was broken. Self-suppressed. Afraid. 

I still am. But my wolf is back. I am back. This is where you'll find me. To some extent. If you'd care to.

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