The wolf, as an archetype, has fascinated many poets, writers, and philosophers. It is not just a beast, but rather blood memory for the wild, wounded woman.
A haunting guardian, a part of the feminine psyche, it refuses to be tamed. In myth, wolves are often feared, hunted, and, most relatable, misunderstood. But to the woman walking in the liminal zone, it is her becoming, a symbol of the sacred teacher.
For the woman, the wolf resonated the most when she had been betrayed by trust. When the world punishes her openness, her softness, her femininity. She snarls when her boundaries have been crossed. She paces and prowls when her soul is restless. She howls when her grief swallows her whole.
And yet, the wolf can also turn inwards. The strength and beastiness it has can consume the heart it is meant to protect. If not met with love and integration, it can make us bleed.
It was on a grey day when I came face-to-face with this creature in me. It had fed on grief, madness, distrust, and the sharp edges of life, which I was accustomed to living in.
I wrote this poem on a day when silence descended on me like waves. Heartbreak and ache crashed on the shore of my being. It just gnawed, waiting and watching me bleed.
It is one of the first poems I’ve written and so will always hold a sacred space within me. For on some days, I circle back to this space where the only thing louder than my thoughts is the wolf within me.
So here is ‘Wolf’, an ode to some days where we are devoured by what lives inside us.
Wolf in Voice- (Trailer)
Wolf
I have a Wolf in me,
and it eats away at bits of my heart.
Each time I trust and let go,
I am met with a blunt force.
The Wolf in me jeers me on,
cries out, and tears at me.
It’s hard to live and
very hard to kill.
Help!
I can’t escape.
This is the end.
Perhaps I’ll find peace
When I kill us both and go beyond.
But really, though…
This Wolf lives in my soul
And I don’t think it intends to leave me alone.
Sometimes the wolf is pain. Sometimes it is protection in disguise. Perhaps it is the last thread holding us together. Keeping us from disappearing entirely. The truth is, I have learned to love the wolf within. I fear it, yes. I wrestle with it. But I also recognize its devotion.
It shows up when I have been wounded, when someone crosses a boundary I didn’t know I held. It cries out when I silence myself too long.
This is not a cage I am in, although sometimes it might feel like it. Something about feeling this way, this in-between, makes it feel like a ritual. A blood-letting. A spell of witness and quiet strength.
You are not broken for having a beast within. You are only human and maybe part-animal too.
The wolf comes in many forms. Imposter syndrome, suicidal thoughts, loneliness, grief, fleeting touch with divine love… it is anything that has the power to swallow us whole. But whatever it is, it is never your enemy.
It is a scream from the deepest recesses of your being— the part that wants to be loved and heard and loved all the more.
The wolf is your shadow guide. It is your edge. It shows up when you need to return to instinct. To the wild territory of knowing without needing permission. It reminds you that rage is sacred. That grief is wisdom in disguise. That sometimes the most loving thing that you can do… is growl.
The Resonance Space: Howl To The Wolf Within
Every wild thing within you that you have been asked to domesticate, this poem was written for that.
Feel It First
Write it (Your Creative Echo)
As Clarissa Pinkola Estés writes in Women Who Run With The Wolves –
“The doors to the world of the wild Self are few but precious.”
You have just walked through one of them. Don’t latch it behind you on the way out.
Descend Into The House
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