Poets logo

Feral Creatures in Cathedrals

to let the wild guide you home

By E. B. RowlandPublished 6 months ago Updated 6 months ago 1 min read
Feral Creatures in Cathedrals
Photo by Europeana on Unsplash

I feel a fire swirling,

every swallowed word

loosened,

every silenced defense

crescendoed

into a symphony

of courage.

I see myself as I am,

a wild wonder feigning obedience,

stuffing vibrance where no one can see it,

smiling soft and pretty like a girl should be,

pretending

I'm not salivating for the scrumptious scent of life

pretending

I don't long to sink my teeth in

pretending

I'm not a messy bleeding creature like

all good humans are

pretending

I am diligently riding the undercurrent,

out of sight,

out of mind

growing tired of

pretending

and now I feel a fire swirling

up from the cathedrals of my solitude,

the secret sanctuary she calls home -

the raging woman who scoffs at mockery,

the unkempt sorceress who dances in the flame,

the playful child who dreams and

dares to leap from cages

who screams

I'm alive I'm alive I'm alive.

don't silence me

don't stuff me in your boxes

with your labels and expectations

with your disapproval for the feral creatures,

because yes,

I am one of them,

untamed,

undefined,

unafraid to reveal myself

raw

to stare right back

scream for those who hurt

and laugh in hatred's face

to dance eagerly in the fires of change and exalt

all the feral creatures because

you are one of them,

hiding behind masks and cages,

hiding behind disapproval,

hiding behind mockery and judgement,

hiding behind the games you were taught so well to play.

now I love that reckless part of me

that doesn't give a fuck about the rules,

the part of me that keeps on flying,

fearless,

free,

eager to take up space,

relentless with wild song,

singing defiantly so you can hear

there is nothing to be afraid of,

our voices are not poison,

our anger is not violent,

our hunger is not a sin,

but a gift of hope for what is possible when we

set loose the feral creatures in cathedrals

and finally

let ourselves

feel.

Mental HealthFree VerseStream of Consciousnesssocial commentary

About the Creator

E. B. Rowland

From the heart of motherhood, where tenderness and chaos share a breath, I write because I must - to make sense of living, to uplift the overlooked, and to outpour the magic of living raw to the bone.

Support my work

Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.

Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.

Subscribe For Free

Reader insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment
    Written by E. B. Rowland