La Loba

This future self I see,
La Loba,
this divine creature,
this Goddess of her own,
(this only form of me…)
She is empowered.
She does not believe,
she knows.
Her voice is that of the trees that became her,
of the soft rustle of the low forrest,
of the wild winds that shook the tree tops,
of the rainfall,
of the night.
She dances,
she walks with purpose,
feet conversing with the Earth below her.
She exists in continuos ritual,
in prayer and praise to every moment.
Her heart beats loud,
like the beat of the Earth in her chest,
the boom of her drum in the black of night,
the tread of the Blue Deer Spirit.
Her heart beats a song,
a lullaby to her inner child.
She is not afraid to feel pain,
for she has learned to cleanse herself in tears,
she has learned how to heal.
Her fears have challenged her,
but she has released them into the song of many nights,
to the moon of many lands.
She questions not her actions or words,
she questions not the worth of her voice.
She questions not the destination of her prayers,
for she knows they are soaring on the wings of Eagles,
riding with the howl of wolves.
She trusts the pace of the universe,
and reads the plan of Creator
in the palms of her hands~
life as a river of fingerprints.
She floats in the tides,
carried by the soft breeze that's always blowing,
the sweet whisper of the world breathing.
Everywhere is her home,
she is not confined.
She is friend of the Darkness,
her spirit rides with the moon.
She dreams of the milky way,
and all the places she has come from.
She dreams of her return,
and of the face of her lover.
She dreams of all the unknown that exists
so many places in her soul.
She bleeds for herself now,
needs the heart of no other.
She runs,
boundless and free in the wild home of herself.
Nothing will ever define her,
except the song that breathed life
into her wolf bones.