Everything, Everything

Wild. 

See? See how the sun edges 
up again and the dandelions 
claim sidewalk cracks as stages. 

See the pages of the sky, churning 
clouds of dragon puff, enough 
to assure us everything 

is wild. And well. Moon casts 
her spell at dusk, and we trust 
her with the tides. 

There will be breaths. There will be 
deaths. It matters 
not, Child. It’s wild. Every 

thing is well. Roll up your dirty 
sleeves and tired heart and re
-start something. Scream. 

Or sing. Dig your hungry hands
into the earth and squelch 
the wealth of wild. Let’s wallow 

in our worth. Let’s claim our birth
-right, daughters of the King. 
Gulp from this well and live 

to tell the stories. Hold wild 
on your tongue and whisp 
-er something true. You 

and I and this bold bright 
sigh are wild. These battered
cages of our chests are well 

-versed in the petaled joys 
of spring and winter’s sting – 
everything, everything 

that cycles, swirls, and stays. 
Stain your fingers and your toes 
in ink and walk this earth 

wild and mud-luscious 
and bold and broken 
-open as a seed. Heed 

only the hints of hope found 
in the hum of trees. Be
-lieve yourself a wild

-ling and a sky
-smiled thing and every
-thing in between. Linger 

in the luxury of laughter,
the ever-after happy
-ness of bees. Whim

-per what you need. Let 
your wild heart well up,
stallion-loose. And wild.  

::
Today, NaPoWriMo offers us this incredible inspiration from Lauren Zuniga.

Day Thirteen

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