Do not be domesticated.
You were born with the moon in your blood
And owls know your true name.
Howl in everything you do, even if it is silent.
Leave wakes of energy behind you
That smell of fresh rain and teardrops.
Hidden wildlings recognize you,
Shouldering out of the shadows,
Nuzzling the folds of dew in your cloak.
Don’t stop the grief streaming salt down your cheeks.
Show them how it can purchase wisdom.
Stream out your roots with tears and show them how
You hold yourself, shattered and mended with gold.
Wild things have smooth edges,
If you just look closely enough at the breaks.
A Burd in Flight 