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Rated: E · Poetry · Animal · #1885440
A poem about an anguished soul searching for peace.
The Banshee and the Wolf
By Forest Dweller
A poem about an anguished soul searching for peace.

Edited by Livingston County Writers & Critics Support Group

Within the primal forest north
Where the mournful winds blow cold
I walk a solitary being through an undiscovered land
I hear the cougars roar within the thickets unknown fold
The great bald eagle glides across the cold foreboding sky
It looks for one small hapless fawn
His talons poised to kill
Alone I walk along the trail among the ancient pines
The winds embrace the ancient pines as they creak an ancient psalm
The winds ignite a mournful song that drives my soul to fear
I hear the ancient banshee scream
Her tears caress my weathered face with cold Canadian rain
Through the timeless void I walk like an ancient wandering huntsman
I see a great bear crash the wood
His voice a fearsome menace
He stares at me with piercing eyes
He raises to a monstrous bulky height and dares me to attack
Submit I must, in silent stealth
The great bear stares; his eyes are aflame
He sniffs and then he’s gone
He lumbers through the pines along his ageless hunting route
I am alone in the deepest wood
The banshee’s mournful scream I hear
The grief, the grief laments the fallen angels’ broken soul
Why did I rebel against God’s holy love?
I see a footprint large and deep embedded in the clay
A gray wolf’s print fresh indeed
The wolf is stalking me
The footprints lead into the wood
The timeless unknown wood
I follow his primeval trek through pines and bubbling creaks
I walk into the deepest wood
The banshee screams, I hear
She cries a forlorn lonely sound
Forever I am gone, she weeps
The weep of one forever lost
I walk through thickets listening, watching
My senses heightened
The treks take me to a crystalline pond
I listen, but no sound emerges
Only a sense of melancholy discontent
The wolf’s howl emerges from my soul
In one brief moment, I understand that I am the wolf
I stalk the wood searching, hungering for food to salve my soul
I sense superiors’ crashing wave beyond the darkened wood
On the beach the sun emerges from turbulence to sunny skies
And for the moment the wolf is content

Word count: 364
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