WILD WOMEN

We are filled with a longing for the wild.

There are so few culturally sanctioned antidotes for this yearning.

We were taught to feel shame for such desire.

We grew our hair long and used it as a curtain to hide our feelings.

Yet the shadow of the Wild Woman still follows us,

through our days, into our nights.

No matter where we go,

the shadow trotting behind us is unmistakably four-footed.

A woman may feel the urge to be near water,

or to lie belly-down with her face pressed into the earth.

She may need to drive straight into the wind.

She may need to plant something.

She may long for nights where the stars scatter like face powder

across a black marble floor.

She may feel she will die

if she cannot dance naked in a thunderstorm,

sit in perfect silence,

or return home ink-stained, paint-stained, tear-stained, moon-stained.