Wild

wildI have plants in my garden that I don’t have names for. I saw a stalk that might be a Yucca this morning. It was leaning in the direction of the wild roses, almost hidden by the brambles next to the butterfly bush. Eden was wild. My dogs are wild. If I’d had children, they would  have been wild – like I was. Wild and free, but also frightened and ashamed. I was all those things, but I never realized I was good. I tried to tame my wild hair. Tame my dreams. Tame my desires. When I couldn’t do that, I just ran. I let my hair grown long and curly. I stopped looking into mirrors. I stopped looking back. Home disappeared. I disappeared. I was only a memory and my friends and family remembered a very different person than the one I became when I let myself be wild.  Fear was replaced by resignation and shame by autonomy that times became apathy. I became as invisible to the people around me as the wind. I became as transparent as water. One day flowed into the next. I drifted further and further away from what was safe and sane. I was truly wild and I could lie spread eagle in the rocks next to the Rio Grande and disappear.

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2 Comments

Filed under Breadcrumbs, Nonfiction

2 responses to “Wild

  1. Pure poetry Brenda! I love how you ran! I love this piece, i want to give it a hug.

    I have a wild child, i call her the imp. This is an affectionate name, because i love imps. Their playful ways rubbing the grain the wrong way, remind me that life isn’t meant to be an ordered sequence of shoulds and have tos in robotic suburbia. Friends and family members have constantly complained about her ‘willful behaviour’ as she was growing up, shaming me as a mother, but I know who we are, their tut tuts don’t matter to me. People are afraid of wild, they confuse it with rebellion. We fight them still.

    Back to the imp, she mocks me when i try to groom her, or rather ask her to groom herself. She won’t brush her hair, and has her own unique view of the world. I try very hard not to sculpt her, tame her, filtering out my fathers words, encourage her, so as not to stifle her wild ivy spirit, that really, just wants to grow where it will in Eden.

    ~lily

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