The Wolf Transcends

 

The Wolf Transcends

At night

I am who I was supposed to be

Here, I have worth

cherished beyond all hate

and I am allowed

to be creative

to excel

to be right,

and real

where I’m never punished for being good

but it’s only a dream

a false promise of home, yet

still, I wait to be one

with the wolves

in the snow and ice and ravenflights

If only I can get through another day.

–Willow Croft (11:11)

 

 

 

Surreal (Slow, Sleepy, Sad, Sullen) Sunday

Today is Food Stamps day, so I have go shopping. I dread shopping. Even though I have my list handy (that I work on in the weeks in-between food stamp days), I always seem to forget something. Food Stamp Day has fallen on a weird day. It’s come after the Saturday Farmers’ Market, so I can’t get all my shopping done in one fell swoop. Poor me, right? *wry laugh* Imagine if I was a gatherer in a hunter/gatherer community. “Oh dear, I forgot to get some wild garlic. Now, I’ll have to go back out and get some.” And then I would get eaten by some fierce nocturnal animal because the garlic spot was miles away and I didn’t make it back before dark. Not that the stew wouldn’t have been burned by then, anyway.

I had a weird dream I had moved into a new apartment, but I was forgetting something (a hint of the grocery shopping day looming?) in the move. The apartment was in a European city, maybe in Germany, and I was embroiled in this undefined mystery. Plus, I was trying to get settled into my apartment community, and I kept forgetting to take stuff to my new apartment from the place I live in now. Like one of my cats. Like a bed, which I brought anyway, and then realised there was a bed already in the apartment. I was trying to get everything sorted so that I could begin my new life, but I kept screwing it up. I never did get things fixed, because I heard one of the feral cats outside and it woke me up.

I miss having a indoor cat companion so much. Although, I realise I’ve been really lucky (or smart) in the cats I picked. For the most part, they were such good kitties. They were also older cats by the time I adopted them. Everybody seems to want kittens, but I can’t imagine why. Older cats are fantastic…sweet, calm, mellow, patient, loving. Kittens can be that, too, eventually, but somebody I know just took in a kitten that showed up at their house. But they get into everything. Running all over like a demon, jumping all over you, attacking you in play nonstop. This little sucker even managed to tear off the sofa cover in about a few minutes’ time. Better them than me, seriously, as cute as the little monster is.

I am officially a fan of older, more sedate cats–the ones that so often get overlooked in shelters. Even senior cats rock! It’s so nice to have them just curl up on your lap for hours, or curl up with you at night. They embody meditation and stillness and just radiate peace and contentment. Comfort in a little purr-body.

Find your old-kitty gem at a shelter today. Or an older dog. #AdoptDontShop https://www.petfinder.com/

I mean, look at these sweet loves. How can you resist?

https://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/39403911

https://www.petfinder.com/petdetail/39403908

Lost and Found

 

Lost and Found

The store had everything

Everything I gave away

and wish I hadn’t

plus everything I wanted

but didn’t need

and even a couple of things I secretly did.

The best part about thrift stores is

you find what you weren’t looking for

among all the people from my past

and present

you were there, talking about

a tennis lesson in Florida,

of all things.

Even more improbable,

I was playing matchmaker, yet

I disentangled myself from the woman

who wanted to meet you

in real life.

Near my old record collection,

we eloped, trying to find a world

where no-one knew us,

but my past found me,

that thief of impossible worlds,

and I lost you, too.

 

Fever Dreams

Fever Dreams

In the real world,
I am maddened by my
own mind.
In my dreams,
even such as painted
by fever,
logic holds sway
and everything is as it should be
including myself.
The only thing missing is you,
in both my worlds.
You are only found in the
in-between,
and the fever is talking me
into believing you are real,
into believing that we are real,
and this,
this hope might be my final undoing.

–Willow Croft

 

 

 

 

The Alchemy of Time

 

The Alchemy of Time

The hourglass feeds on ghosts

it slows but never sleeps

the selfsame cycle of sand

still ticking away into eternity.

I should be able to

break free

but nothing ever changes

except in dreams.

Which is real?

this static reality

or endless worlds

born from chimera and

fire.

Every night, I escape to

a new unknown

Which would you choose?

I ask, while knowing the answer,

yet, still, entrust my last wish to you,

mystic warrior,

walker of worlds,

and my never-ending ghost.

Please, fracture time

and bring me home.

–Willow Croft

 

Tuesday Interlude

 

I love this ethereal video made by Sarah Wickliffe (http://www.wickpix.com/)…with a poetic appearance by Neruda. Followed it up with a Cure chaser. Because, you know, the Cure.

 

Until we meet in other worlds, traveller.

 

 

The Synchronicity: Fire

 

Wrote a poem about an hour or so ago to submit to a contest, titled Bonfire. It was the day of bonfires earlier this week, which probably inspired it.

But, I’m a water person, usually. Water, coolness, rain, overcast skies. Yet, a fire elemental has been making its presence known. Hence the other part of the inspiration. In dreams. In random thoughts. In my poetry. In waking life. Then I signed back online to enter the poem. And encountered more fire synchronicity to wrap up the week. I feel a little haunted and eerie, even though I largely accept Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s practical/scientific view(s) on such mental/emotional phenomenon.

So I used the poem I wrote  for the contest to siphon off some of the feelings towards the fire element I’ve been having lately. A short story for another contest is going to hold some more. And the leftover I was planning on putting in another poem for share on here, sometime soon. But now I feel like a mimic, albeit unintentional. And it’s nice to muse on, but I’m not sure whether I also believe in Jung’s theory of collective unconsciousness (or my interpretation of said theory).

Still, words clamour inside my head to be let out. To be heard. And, like most writers, I can only release them, and hope they are heard by those who need them the most. Who are listening with the right-place-right-time heart. And maybe they will be someone else’s synchronicity.

Ouroboros

The snake catches fire.
I burn it to be free
of this infinite loop.
Of walking in circles
Spiralling around from dreams to life and back again.
Yet, I love being lost in the maze and
trapped in this mystery.
Are these glimpses more fulfilling
than the reality of you?
The poet in me asked the void.
I defend myself.
I burn the bridge, I say,
because I’m tired of darkness and shadows and half truths and ghosts that go bump
inside my head.
I want fire.
I want to scorch my world to cinders.
And I want you to be the water,
this time,
from which my phoenix is born.

–Willow Croft