Journey Strain Urge Tug Pull Guide Seek Distance Sea
Restless Screams
Sometimes urges–primal screams of myself if you will
Yank at me like restless children who tug my hand
Come with us. Play with us. Run with us. Live please.
Should I seek these winsome toddler thoughts–follow?
Should I stay planted in my known domesticated self
Would the journey to the wilding that is within
Strain my sanity. Snap me like a twig. Break me down?
Pull me closer to that edge with fantasies of hope
With no map in hand I must let that muse guide me
Will she pull me over the bone-shattering cliff?
Will she drown me in that soul-sucking sea?
There in the distance I can hear those cries
Wailing, laughing, crying, shouting, screaming
Those restless children. Those primal screams of me.
Stephanie Arwen Lynch
9/4/2008