The closest I came to a wolf was at the Vietnam Veterans' Memorial in Washington DC. I took a long time to muster up nerve and walk through the hard emotions attached to that war, and walking down Constitution Avenue one day I felt compelled to walk across the grass to the memorial.
There were, of course, a lot of people in various emotional states, and a make shift market of sorts people. People with off the wall personalities were selling this and that related to the war, or handing out fliers, and papers with information about health, MIAs, mental health care, and such. As I waded through the crowd I suddenly felt an aloneness; an urgency to place myself somewhere specific. I relaxed into it and guided found myself standing next to a table in the market. Not a few feet away was a wolf.
The owner was gaunt the way Appalachian folk are. He was warily regarding me. What he thought about me for a brief instant was apparent. It didn't matter because stranger than I was something circular and daring the two of us to speak to the other. He and the wolf were partners, and the man had become more wolf. The wolf insisted on remaining who he was. The animal's legs were long and thin, but nothing about him was not fear inspiring.
How did I know he was a wolf? I felt him within me. The Appalachian man accepted that. He understood it, and explained the animal was half wolf, and half dog. "The wolf comes out. It is the strongest part."
Beyond this I cannot express the way the wolf pressed upon and within me the core, the essence of his being. It is the way of the Wolf. I felt, saw it, read about it, and have heard tale of it. This story is mine I share with you. - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories
No comments:
Post a Comment