Wildly Free

I’m so wild I could scream! She would shout this often.

Wild? I thought. Like the Brumby’s that could been seen grazing on the ridge at sunset?

You make me so wild! Directed at me, caused by me. I made her wild.

Wild? Like the tiny purple and yellow flowers that grew out from the tree stump down by the creek? Like the orange breasted Robin, who played hide and seek in the crevices of the now crumbling and abandoned quarry? No, not that kind of wild.

Thundering black clouds, rain pelting, wind ripping at worn white sheets on the old wooden line, broken branches flying, hundred-year-old glass window smashing kind of wild. Yes.

Because I was wild too. Free, untamed and pure. River running, mane flowing kind of wild. Reckless, shoeless, breathless and careless. I ran from routine, from order, from responsibility. Don’t hold me, don’t cage me, just love me.

You better do as you are told. They would say. She will be so wild if you don’t.

Strap flying, spoon breaking, closet locking, hands tying, eye blackening kind of wild.

How could I be anything other than me. Raw. Following my own heartbeat, my own call, the call of the wild.

Just let her go. He would say. She’ll settle down. She’s a wild one…that one.

But my wildness turned her wild. In an uncontrollable, seething, ugly way. Lips curling, teeth baring, bristling hair kind of way. Furniture crashing, body breaking, life ending kind of way. Sirens calling, grave digging, tears falling kind of way.

Now wildly free. Spirit free. I run with the wolves, the mountains, the rivers. On the wind I fly.

Captive and caged, she sits and stares at the floor. She made me so wild…her only words.