two wolves came to me last year in the fall and winter, in what i now believe was a shamanic transmission of story.
metaphor, writing, poetry- is living shamanism in a way i did not realize until these days, these weeks.
last year during this time- carried over from the year, and certainly from the previous fall and winter- my pain was so great that it could not process in any other way.
the light wolf and the dark wolf, the white wolf and the black wolf, were my guides through a journey i am now spiraling in return to- reading over, wondrously, understanding.
this is the last part of the story i never posted, written in the unseasonable warmth sitting on a rock along the shore of randalls island on new year’s day. sunning my wings. at least that’s how i remember it..
the previous parts of two wolves are all here, and it will be published in its entirety in my next book, WILDLIGHT. it was actually where that word came from. describing the black wolf.. a creature of amber, wildlight.
i am so grateful to what story gives us.
even in anguish, we are able to be visited by our guides. spun a tale that will take us back home.
* * *
i sat on the shore besides a great big sea turtle.
i pressed my forehead to his.
so this is how we begin, i said. every day is new year’s day.
the empire of light glowing in the distance over the water, not so much a destination but an affirmation.
birds flying in circles, the fairweather dancer clouds reflecting rainbowed hues.
it is not so much a good wolf or bad wolf, is it? they are each walking with us at all times. it is all choices, journeys, islands, voyages. back to sky, sound, water, fire, earth.
i touched the turtle’s nose with my open hand.
you found a key to the future, he said. and it has two sides. one smooth, one rough. depending which way you hold it, different doors will open.
a white comet streaked up against the blue sky.
this is the first sunset of the new year.
the crescent moon was just a sliver of fullness to come, fragile and beautiful. the horizon ambered, the tortoise’s breath warm against the growing cold.
the challenge is to love it all, he said.
the challenge is to love it all, i replied.
and i threw the old key, the burning rock, and hollowed shell into the river. blessed myself with the ashened sage- ears, chest, forehead.
i put my hand over my heart, breathed in the air that mixes with edges of the sea.
tiny feathers sprouted at my ankles. i smiled.
until the circle brings us back again, i said. my heart full.
and on i went.
* * *
and on i did.
XO
a.
[[shows + events // what’s coming up]]
audrey di mola - folkloric futurism 