Listen to the above song while reading this piece.
What has happened to you, my beautiful Wolf Woman?
Where is your beautiful wild, musky coat? Your once muscular shoulders are now covered in a bleached, close-cut, silky sheen. Your once moving and mottled landscape of fascinating skeletons and stories has now become a garden of square clipped mazes carefully dotted with miniature white roses.
Where are your dark, wild eyes? Your once sparkling orbs of shadow pouring out with love so thick and molasses it could envelop and slow an entire city of pistons and smoke. Your once unfiltered and organic flow of feminine energy has become a tightly wound jewelry box complete with a tiny ballet dancer and an off switch.
Where are your ivory claws? Your once wise and lethal protection has now been repeatedly ground flat and white against a silky soft paw for fear of hurting or cutting anyone’s skin. Your once revered and respected existence has been filed and polished into what can now be adequately received. Palatable and Nice. A good girl.
Where is your beautiful moon song? Your once legendary, piercing voice which flowed through the moonlit valleys and mountains has become a muffled lap-dog bark, a whimper. Your once entrancing, connecting, enchanting symphony, has become a stifled, scripted call for help. A call for love. A call for the wild you crave.
My beautiful Wolf Woman, as hard as they try, you will never be broken off from your sacred core. All you need to remember is the feeling and the sound of your wild. Come home to your power. Hear the drumbeat. Brush your ring finger on the inside of your paw. Find the moon. Never forget.