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
barb j beyers 