She was born in the wild,
Immersed in nature from first breath.
She was the wild.
People tried to change her.
They tried to shorten her breaths,
She bounded too high
Her steps held no path in mind.
Over downed trees she would leap without a
Scratches from sticker bush and branches
Made her laugh.
Brambles in her hair.
And her heart raced at the sight of the bear
And the squirrel;
All the same in the wild.
All one living and breathing being,
For together they felt the dirt
On their bare skin. Raw.
The berries and the fiddle fern
Filled her appetite.
Cold mountain waters quenched her thirst.
The wild was her foundation, her breath,
Her heart, her skin.
She is the wild.
Wild and free can be anything.
To me it is wandering in the woods off trail.
Eating fresh raspberries and blueberries
While listening for wild animals that may come.
As a young girl,
Taking off alone to
Ride that beautiful white mare
Bareback up mountainsides so steep
And through Forests so deep.
Her mane in my bare hands and my legs holding tight with every change in direction
Giggling when I turned corners and almost falling off
When she reared.
Finding bear tracks in mine upon returning back to where I
Catching the curious eyes of a lynx
And hearing the thump of a beaver tail,
The squeak of a porcupine in a tree.
The sweet smell of dirt and rain
And the silence of heaven in the wind singing in my ears.
Trusting myself and the earth.
In those wild and free moments
I died and was reborn again and again.
They saved me from death.
I understand now.