Contributor: E.S. Wynn

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You cannot catch the sky
even in your steely jaws
even stretching wide
from horizon
to horizon

You cannot steal the golden mask
tied about her muzzle
buried
in the ages of earth
in ages of dreams
in ages of dark words
and hate

You cannot bind her
you cannot cut the howl from her throat
you cannot kill the poetry
in her moon-upon-midnight voice.

Even blinded
Even rotted
Even lost

Still, she cries her magic to the sky.
still, across the dark and silent ages,
she stands side-by-side with the gods
watching over them
shepherding them
feeding the innocent young,
nurturing them.

The wolf has a thousand names
and needs none.
the wolf speaks
and the gods
the gods who know the wolf
the gods--

When she speaks,
they always listen.


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E.S. Wynn is the author of over 70 books in print. He maintains a main author blog at: www.eswynn.com