Wild to the Child
The savage voice inside me growls, “You do not know me, child!”
I’m not the gentle friend you seek, my heart is much too wild.
My claws are ready, quick to rend, to slash out in blind rage,
My fangs show bright, to fill with fright, those who disturb my cage.
Leave me, child, go far away. I would not do you harm.
You do not know the danger that is coiled inside my arm.
How like a serpent’s strike it waits, to snare the wayward prey,
How docile it appears to lie, while in the warmth of day.
The night will wake the torment, the hunger to be fed,
Be far away from here, dear child. Be safely in your bed.
I will be roaming in the night, my passions to run free.
You would not know me then, you would not want to see.
The moonlight and the darkness will wake a savage thirst,
I go in search of slaking it, and join the other cursed.
We are the stalking appetites, no chains to hold us back,
When we have found the thing we seek, there is one rule, attack!
It is no place for children, no innocence allowed,
It is a place of open stares, the haughty, and the proud.
The weak are culled without a care. They slink in shame away,
To lick their wounds in safety and emerge another day.
We’re driven to go out and search but do not know our fate,
Which is to wander aimlessly until we find a mate.
Somehow the act reduces tensions and we calm down for a while,
And the nightly urge to wander only draws a little smile.
We’re safer then for children to approach and touch our hand,
Which stirs another appetite so different than we planned.
And soon enough our joining has produced a child for us,
And children know for sure that here is someone they can trust.
The wildness seems to have abated, and left a gentle soul,
Which is a part of something that is now a better whole.
That wild strength is now subborned to daily tasks,
Supporting our new unit in whatever way it asks.
But it is only lurking just below the civil manner,
And it will surface quickly to confront an evil planner,
For nothing will unleash the anger and ferocity so wild,
As any kind of threat to either mother or her child.
Let not the predatory beasts who watch the cattle,
Delude themselves to think that such will not be quick to battle.
They seek to sow discord and then attack in the confusion,
And they’ll find themselves impaled upon the horns of their delusion.
NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . June 28, 2004
If I didn't know better I'd say you did an excellent job describing a cat. ;-)
WOW!!
What a powerful work. The images are surreal like a beast of The Revelations.
You are very talented and a very strong writer.
Whoa! That's deep. Good writing Bob.