Black Wolf, White Wolf

September 15, 2008
By Christopher Dennison, Springfield, IL

I sit on the edge of my territory, waiting for her to arrive,
She sees me every night, but neither of us can cross the border to truly meet.
She is my enemy’s daughter, but she longs for me at night.
She howls songs to me, though she disguises them as simple tunes.
She longs for me, but she fears her father’s wrath.

A howl goes up, her voice echoes through the alleyways and empty roads,
I howl my response, hidden in a threat on her life.
I stand, her scent being carried to me on the wind’s teasing hands.
She is miles away, under her father’s careful watch.
I long for her, and her for me.

She approaches, yet she must stop before she reaches me.
She stands at the road, the concrete barriers of our homes.
She smiles and sits back on her haunches casually.
She shall be punished if her father catches her here, but she does not care.
She is now human, sitting cross legged on the sidewalk.

She is from the north, and I from the south.
She is from dreams and wealth, and I from pain and struggles.
She, a white wolf with black paws, I, a black wolf with white paws.
We longed for one another, but our paths could never cross.
She would die here, in my father’s land, and I in her father’s land.
She stands, again in her beautiful wolfen form, and starts down the street.
I follow after her, occasionally slicing my paw open on broken glass.
This pain is nothing, true pain is that of love forbidden.
We fear not being seen in these our wolfen forms,
This town belongs to us, and no one lives here without our say.

At the park, we sit on opposite sides of the bike trail,
We sit on park benches, now human in the full moon light.
We talk to each other, about school and home and each other.
We talk about everything we can, not knowing when we will again meet.

She starts home first, beckoned by her father’s call,
I turn to start home, my mother’s call ringing across the broken ground.
We share but a faint good-bye before going our separate ways.
I will wait again tomorrow, through rain or storm.
I suffer in longing for her, knowing she will never be mine.

She lays in bed at night, a white wolf with black paws.
I lay in bed, a black wolf with white paws.
Our thoughts mingle together, our dreams intertwine.
In our minds, there is peace, there is love, there is us.
We wish not to wake, knowing the pain the morning light brings.

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This article has 1 comment.

conradk said...
on Mar. 1 2009 at 3:20 am
Great piece of work. It encouraged me to think how deeply it correlates to my relationship. Thank you!


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