POEM: Wild (Manos Para Ti)

You have grown wild, my dear,
With long, unkempt fingernails,
With blustery hair and sharp teeth.

What I mean to say is this:
That I was once wild, myself, too
And I think there is something
You need to know about
Being wild.

It’s not always a crime
To give in to the violent frustration
That wells up in you
Whenever you lose the vision
Of whom you thought you would be by now.

There is no shame in that,
In being weak – sometimes.

Believe me, mi hija,
When I tell you that I
Was wild once myself
And I know every crevasse,
Every rock formation
Of the wildness
That grips you now
By the throat.

But you should also know
That I have hands
(Have I shown you my hands?)
These are hands
That can comb the wildness
From your hair;
These are hands
that can turn the softness of you
Inside out
And make you into the gentle
Lilly
I know you to be.

M C Biegner
4/2005