by Alison McKenzie

She is the she-wolf
In the trap,
Having lost everything
In one moment of blind trust
And hunger,
Unexpected danger in a wilderness
That had always loved her;
Unable to move now,
Bearing an otherwise simple injury
Resolved by simply releasing her
From the device
That now threatens
Life itself.

And he, having glimpsed her
In the glory of beauty unaware,
Comes upon her in his search of her,
Finding her prostate,
Labored breathing
And bloodied limb.

He wishes to free her,
To help her heal,
But she is still strong enough
To attack, for in her state of shock,
She knows only
The sense that she must fight
To protect herself from further injury.

He reaches,
She attacks.

He reaches again,
Finding her apparently subdued.
Yet she snaps again
And again,
Finding hidden stores of fight
Until he fears that
She is not going to let him free her,
Her message of rejection
And her will to protect herself
Speaking louder than
His will to stay.

So he leaves her, to herself,
And hopes that she will somehow
Escape on her own.

But she is finally bereft,
And dying,
Unable to let the stranger near,
And unable to
Do this for herself,
Exhausted beyond
What is needed
To gnaw off her own limb.


Posted on 12/18/2015
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Ken Harnisch on 12/24/15 at 01:40 AM

What a metaphor for the inability of the wounded to let someone try to heal them. Been there, and wish I had written this lovely tome myself!

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