sometimes there are no words
because the feelings are too wild
too sharp with fullness
to try and chain them
forcing them into stalls of syntax
would make them less-than
but we crave it all the same
because we fear what happens
when they break free
from the fragile corrals of our hearts
we are trampled by them
brought low and bloodied
in the thundering unceasing onslaught
as they spread like undamned rivers
across our floodplains of composure
we are mystified by their wildness awestruck by their grandeur and ever so terrified of what might happen should they be set free rightfully so because making peace with the wilderness of our hearts requires a giving up a letting-go of shoulds and musts demanding an acceptance that not all things are in our control
nor should be if beauty is what we crave if harmony is what we yearn for if peace is our strongest hope learning to be still and breathe in
out
and in again with soft gaze and open palm while the wilds rage all around daring us to stand in defiance stamping and snorting kicking up clouds of dust and confusion rending the air with ragged cries unseemly and pure
this baffling stillness is the only hope we have of not only surviving the stampede but embracing the wildness of our hearts and forming a bond of friendship the stuff of which legends are made and happily-ever-afters brought near.
-rrf