Wild Thing

Her heart was hurting,
And so was mine.
A pup who had been chained outdoors,
A woman in the midst of divorce.

We met at a shelter, concrete floors,
chain link walls.  She was quiet,
But observant.  Hopeless on a leash.
Hungry for freedom, and squirrels, and wanting
Nothing more than to be wild.

I needed comfort, affection, companionship,
She hungered to hunt and kill.
Not the best match,
Yet we found home in each other.

She was spring-loaded, so
Vibrant with life it blazed out of her.
She soared, she bounced, she boinged.
She made me laugh.

She had opinions,
Owned the neighborhood, was loyal to me unto death,
Literally.
Her great yearning heart
Cracked mine back into life.
She flew on ocean beaches, she treed cats,
She slept back to back with me,
Clambered over boulders and rocks,
Never turned away from a challenge.

Why the Great Source gives us these hearts
That can love so deep,
And a reality that includes separation
From what we love,
Is too philosophical for me right now.

What is real today
Is the great weighty presence of her absence,
Her dignity, her silliness, her insistence
On living her life in wild spirit.




(In loving memory of Denise's dog Tori, aka Tori Amos, Tora Bora, Torista, The Tormeister, who passed 9/30/10)

(Photo: Deena Hofstad; Poem: Denise Benitez)