Wild Things

I have taken in
wild things before
Some fell into my care;
all fell unexpectedly there
A broken thing ;
a weakened one
All alone baking in the sun
Shrinking wide eyed 
into the calling earth
I could not walk on
and go beyond
their pain
their need
their fear
And still respect my every step after

And so I did what little I knew 
and sought knowledge and help 
on this wild thing’s behalf.  
Hope was small 
I bathed it with compassion,
and comfortable crumbs 
of condolence and humor.  
I did the dirty work 
cleaning what comes 
from a body in revolt.  
Poor thing, 
feeling un-beautiful 
and burdensome.  
And while one would perish in 
and another would fly from 
my arms, 
the leaving always came 
with caring for wild things.  
It was never easy
caring so much.
If they never turned back 
Nor recognized me again 
or if I never knew what in their life happened next,
I offered my best.  
To heal the wild thing 
and to remember 
that they were never really mine to keep 
nor mine to love forever.  
So I healed and mourned
and walked on 
to do it all again 
For walking along
I have found again 
the next 
wild and broken thing.


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