Verses for a Young Poet

 

I remember my wild heart.

When I walk, I feel it in the vast

outdoors with plants, trees, and birds

even if they must jockey for space

amid cement surfaces and electric wires.

 

I sometimes see it in the eyes

of domestic animals from cows to cats

and turtles.  I've seen it in nakedness,

though I am rarely nude these days.

Arthritis and age want warm clothes.

 

I meet with kindred spirits to dust off

youthful memories with spirit-full

stories and tall tales.  But here’s my secret: 

I don’t want to be wild again; I want to

sit and watch.  My heart is broken.

 

Won’t you wild now with your supple

body and quickening heart?   Won’t you

join the dance and drum at the heart

of mother nature?  Maybe you will dream

and maybe fly.  I did both in my time.

 

When you return, I will greet you,

ask for your stories, ask to see your 

scars and seeds.  I’ll get on my knees

to help you plant them.  There is

so much I want to learn from you.

Written for earthweal's weekly challenge: WILD HEARTS CAN’T BE BROKEN

My blog poems are rough drafts.

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© 2022 Susan L. Chast