My love isn’t light and joyful
It is fraught with deep grief
And a fierce need to alleviate
Pain and suffering

My love isn’t tender kisses
And a cool hand on a fevered brow
It is the bone chilling gut wrenching
Fear of death stealing you, too soon

My love isn’t a walk in the park
And easy laughter
It is the teeth bared and low growl
Of one on alert protecting you

My love has not been domesticated
It is feral–it is wild
Howling at the moon
And fighting predators is my nature

This ferocious intensity of love
Is every child’s birthright
To go forth fortified on breastmilk
Laced with his mother’s gall

If protecting Mother Nature
And fighting for her children
Is in your sinew and bones
You weren’t raised on milksop

So find your battle cry
Ululate your keening
A wail, a howl, or a deep moan
It is the voice of God.

bjbeyers 12/2022

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