There is a wild thing
sleeping inside,
inside my bones,
my womb of stones,
ever so weary,
ever on the hide.

There is a wild thing
sleeping deep inside.

She was once my bride,
she was once so wild,
wild with desire
in my womb of fire,
ever so pure,
ever immature.

There once was a wild thing,
she was once king.

Now and then she wakes,
my soft ground she shakes,
shakes me to the core,
now and then I roar,
howl at the moon,
shatter my cocoon.

Now and then she wakes,
From the grave she brakes.

From the grave she’s rising
without compromising,
from the shoulds and what ifs,
down the drains and high cliffs,
from the womb of fears,
down the path of tears.

Brake free from my chamber,
Wild thing, I remember
you.

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 Author: Irina Latis 

Editor: Emily Bartran

Photo: freeparking/Flickr