Poetry

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Ode to the wolf

By Haleh Stilwell
June 22, 2001
The Iranian

I catch site of you through the barren trees

You turn and glare at me

Your eyes like fiery garnets hold the wisdom of generations

You do not move

You seemed carved from the icy landscape

I sense a cold hatred of my kind: of humans

We destroyed your homes

We slaughtered your family

We drove away the herds

Forcing you to find food among our oxen

Of which came only more death for your kind

And yet you tolerate me

You fly over the snow with the grace of a dragon

The spirits of your ancestors coarse through your veins

You are thrilled to be running and free

You pause on a snowy hilltop and howl tribute to the Lady Moon

A soft silhouette against the silver sky

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