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.
(12-16-12)
Thin Tin String 