wolves of fortune howl and scrap
at the gates of my existence
I will not get wrapped up in myself
bed bound by fear
allowing grey walls to infiltrate me
I offer wolves vulnerability
rich fat morsels of loss and grief
found concealed within cavities
of the hospital room
I cast my eyes to granite buildings
mica flecks spark a suggestion
an escape route
the gritty surface blisters and roughens my hands
as I clasp and climb
pulling myself up and over the edge to
the giddy safety of the rooftops
wolves with their yellow-eyed gaze
watch my liberation quest
hunger satiated
give me another day’s grace
I salute them with my bloodied hand
not yet ready to fall
This poem is inspired by a quote from a podcast where the poet and philosopher, David Whyte is being interviewed. He commented:
“Our choice is to inhabit vulnerability as generous citizens of loss, robustly and fully, or conversely, as misers and complainers, reluctant, and fearful, always at the gates of existence, but never bravely and completely attempting to enter, never wanting to risk ourselves, never walking fully through the door.”
September 2023 is Blood Cancer Awareness Month. It is also Child Cancer Awareness Month. Every day 10 children in the UK are diagnosed with cancer. Of those lucky enough to survive, many will have long-term side-effects that may significantly impact their lives forever.
I am posting one poem per day to recognise this and raise money for the Ellen MacArthur Cancer Trust. This charity provides sailing and other outdoor adventures for children and young people aged 8-24 who have been treated for cancer. But it’s more than that. There’s a package of support around this including siblings, return trips, volunteering opportunities and so on. The Trust also works hard to ensure their work is environmentally sustainable. You can make a donation HERE!
I remember being told, when writing poetry, to “show not tell“. I love the quote that inspired this poem, and the way the poem shows us this idea as a story with vivid images of hungry, preying wolves, someone hiding away and wrapping themself up in bed sheets, the world shrunken to a hospital room and their mind a fog of grey.
The image of loss and grief as fat, juicy morsels to be eaten up by the wolves is original, surprising and thought provoking. The mood of the poem starts to turn around.
The second verse starts by coming out from under the covers and looking to the world outside, a window of possibility. Scaling the building is a brilliant evocation of how hard it can feel to drag yourself out of a ‘miserly and complaining’ state of mind, particularly the image of palms torn on rough surfaces, heaving yourself up.
The impossibility of climbing vertical granite buildings is achieved by sheer willpower, and there is a feeling of lightheadedness, looking down on the world below and the enclosed room of miserable feelings you have at least temporarily left behind.
Fortune is often shown in literature as a fickle, mocking thing, but in this poem, you offer it food, and at the end, even salute it! How courageous to stand up for yourself calmly in the face of ravenous wolves with their predatory glinting eyes!
Thanks Michelle.