Wild Once More
You told me to find those wild gods -
Why?
What would the wild ones want with me?
The Pans, the Devils, the Lucifers,
My life
My existence
Is so far from their realms.
I see no unencumbered shores,
No ancient forests.
Just bricks and screens and glass
To keep the cold, winter winds at bay.
A poem written at a coffee table
Next to a potted plant.
What could I offer them in this colonized land,
From my colonized mind?
What do I yearn for?
What desire drives me most?
A lush garden,
Not running through the forest naked with a bow in hand,
Hunting and tracking the boars and the birds.
No blood dripping from my hands,
No vitality coursing through my veins.
Just a garden
In the sun,
Idyllic and calm,
With green and feathered and furry friends.
How is that desire wild?
If the wild gods want to play with me,
Should I not want a wild life in the woods
Drinking from creek beds and sleeping under the stars?
I wouldn’t last a day.
Maybe the gardens are a gateway,
From and to the wild.
Eden,
The centralized, expansive garden ruled by the wild’s bane,
Began our descent,
And maybe our way back
Is through smaller Edens
Freed from his control and severance.
The gardens welcome in the wild
And keep dangers at bay.
A compromise,
The best we can hope for
Right now.
The gardens we plant today
May give birth to the wilds of the future.
Maybe that’s it:
The wild gods know their limits
And see that their return can only be heralded
By a garden.
Every mighty oak starts as a simple seed.
Could it be
That tending to a garden
Is doing the Devil’s work?
He rules over wild places.
A Devil’s Hole is only half an hour away,
After all.
Bringing in the wild
Even in a garden
Must bring the wild ones closer.
These wild ones;
I hear their call.
But is there not a danger in them?
More savage than the tricksters,
More feared than most.
These beings,
They revel in risk.
Humans fled from their embrace since the beginning of time.
Were my ancestors wrong
Running towards cities,
Towards agriculture,
Towards industry?
Am I not living the life
They had always longed for?
Safe and secure,
Tucked away from the elements.
Not wanting for heat or for food.
Coddled and lazy
With time to write poetry and ponder.
So why,
Then,
Am I drawn towards the wild?
Is it like the pull they felt
Towards empire?
Am I trying to reverse what they wrought
As a collective?
To correct the wrongs they couldn’t have known?
But maybe that’s just it:
This isn’t just for me,
I can’t completely welcome the wild ones in.
But maybe someone else can
Down the line.
Maybe this will pave the path for those who come next.
I learn the stories
And plant the seeds
So the world may be wild once more.
We gave our magic away
Spells
Law
Money
Magic
All to exert greater control
And separate us
The magic of the west is division
Has become about separation
Where did we lose our way?