Dear Wildish One,
Maybe you’re a woman of a certain stage,
rediscovering yourself after years of people-raising.
Once immersed in the intensity of tending others,
you sense a new season approaching.
You lift your head, wipe the mist from your eyes.
You take a look around.
The landscape has changed.
You realise the family needs less of you,
so you can be more of her—
even if you’ve lost touch with who she is.
She’s still there.
Slumbering beneath the folds of flesh and the layers of story.
Your truest, softest, quietly wild self, wrapped up in an animal body.
Are you ready to reclaim her?