“Stick to the man made path” they say,
but I’m a scarlet woman, so I go my own way.
They tell me “You’re a wild one, Red.
One of these days you’ll end up dead.”
I laugh knowing I’m not invincible,
shrug and say, “Well, won’t we all?!”
I’m not afraid of the forest,
of wolves, or of men,
I have faced them all,
and will do it again.
I’m not naive or fearless,
but I’ll walk through fear’s fire,
to hunt the fullness of myself,
to live my truest desire.
And I think you’re the kind,
who will know what I mean,
when I tell you sometimes,
I get on all fours and scream.
I never cried wolf,
but I’ve seen a wolf cry,
and there is something the same about him and I.
So I follow paw prints
off the beaten track,
I dance into the woods,
and I never look back.
I hug trees, kiss flowers and splash in the river,
giggle with glee at the cold water shiver,
then I lay wet on the grassy banks,
feel the sun on my skin and give my thanks.
And if from the darkness,
I feel eyes that aren’t there,
I stay still and brazen,
just let them stare.
Nature is beautiful, and so am I,
I’m going to live before I die.
So I’m wild, but not feral,
no one needs to tame me.
I know who I am
and I’m still a lady.
I take cake to Grandma for afternoon tea.
She is a wise old woman,
and a lot like me.
We sip our sweet tea out in the fresh air,
then Granny snoozes in her rocking chair,
while I watch the woodman chopping his wood,
putting on a show for the girl in the hood.
He knows how I love to see,
to feel insatiable longing flow all through me.
We each have our ways to work up an appetite,
he will devour me later…
there is a full moon tonight.
And in a clearing on my way home,
I’ll go to him on my own,
to give him a taste of me.
I’ll open my red cloak,
he’ll fall to his knees.
They say I’m hungry like the wolf,
but the wolf says he is hungry like me.