Two Wolves
A poem
TWO WOLVES
Silver coat against falling snow,
Black rimmed eyes of yellow;
In dreams he comes to me —
My beautiful timber wolf, Rowdy.
Eyes jeweled in firelight,
Moon high, glowing bright,
He gazes across a frozen lake.
I sit by the fire and wait.
He turns to me, comes to sniff my hand.
In the blink of an eye, not a wolf but a man.
He sits on the log, bends toward the fire.
Fear, he says, is a thief and a liar.
It steals your life, makes phantoms true.
Fear has stolen enough from you.
He takes my hand. He stares at me.
My beautiful guide, my Rowdy.
Remember the story, two wolves that fight?
One is black and one is white?
I nod and smile. I do indeed.
Tell me, my darling — which do you feed?
What you do every day is what you believe.
Do you give, or hide? Express joy? Or grieve?
All choices in life come down to two.
Every choice, every moment, is up to you.
I nod and squeeze his hand. “You’re right.
“One toward darkness, one toward light.
“One choice toward love, and one away.”
“One choice toward fear, and one toward faith.”
He smiles and stands, holds out his hand.
Fear writes the story of your life in sand.
But when you use love, my darling, to write,
Your words are written in starlight.”
We stand on the banks of a frozen lake.
I look at the path my life might take.
“How will I know if I’m on the right path?”
He smiles. Moment by moment, ask.
From that day on, I vowed to live
Moment by moment; to love; forgive;
To focus on joy and happiness;
To live in this moment, let go of the past.
When I’m unsure, can’t find my way,
I remember what Rowdy told me that day.
Every choice in life comes down to two.
Every choice, every moment, is up to you.
n.f.
___________________________
I wrote this on May 30, 2013
as part of the Story-a-Day-In-May
writer’s challenge.