Like the full moon in the sky. Like the bear with an arrow in its side. Like a chimp that carries her dead baby on her back.
My emotions run dry. There is no place for them only in the moment. They cannot be dwelled on. They cannot be savored. That is not what they are meant for in the wild.
There is no luxury of thought there. Only instinct to kill. Only thoughts of food and water. Sunshine and the cold night.
The days are short. The nights are long. Sleep is not for dreaming. It is for listening. It is for readiness to be awake.
There is no happy. There is no sad. There is no reason for either. There is only life. There is only the nourishment of movement. And a body that can break and crumble.
You are not alone. And you are not safe. You are only alive. You are only as good as you are. You life only depends on you.
Your family surrounds you. Yet your death will do them part. You are one, and they are many. You are small and life is bigger.
It plays no favorites. It does not give you luck. You would never think you are fortunate. But you would taste every flavor of every bit of flesh that falls on your tongue.
You would feel the breath in every pulse of wind that moves your hair. You would smell every type of dirt that particulates the air. You would run and run and run. And die running, if only you were asked to.
The call of wild will lead you there. To life, death, and the unknown. It sings from your heart and resonates from the trees. Your body shakes and shimmers to it’s beckoning. Your throat aches and waters to it’s sound. You bound and leap and gorge into its soil.
You are wild. And you will return. You are wild. And only there, will you learn.