Carrion for the Crows

How often the wolf comes wrapped in the shimmering wings of Dragonfly’s illusion; not the majestic she-wolf that holds herself as protector of her pack, but something darker and solitary. It silently slides under the radar of truth; at first appearing as our benevolent canine companions. As dawn visits, the veil is lifted offering the gift of clarity; not the majestic Wolf at all, nor my loyal companion. It is the Trickster I see, cunning in its ability to offer sacred deception. How have you visited me so many times and still I did not recognize you?

Amnesia must have set in, for how quickly I forgot that I am magic, and you are only fear. Ahhhh, but now I remember. I see your bones protruding from outmoded skin. I stopped feeding you a long time ago, yet still you return begging for scraps from unhealed wounds. You sense them with canine accuracy but today I am the Trickster. My wounds don’t bleed and seep anymore. The infected poison of unworthiness and lies has been offered as carrion to the Crows. They thanked me by wrapping my wounds in truth. You smell healing cunning one; the trick is on you. Stay if you’d like. I’ll starve you to death and sing SHE-magic as I dance around your bones.

Better yet, I’ll leave you alone. Life holds too much magic and SHE-wolf is calling me home. Best to whimper away now lest you become dinner in the SHE-den. Don’t bother to shape-shift, for I will never forget again. I thank you for your lessons; now there is no need for you to return.

Photo by Michael LaRosa on Unsplash