the pup cries as his mother hobbles away into the night, three breaths away from her last.
the moon gleams in his pupils, those grey eyes.
having seen nothing but loneliness and fear.
the tears subside as the sun breaks the horizon. light pours over the shadows, a semi-permanent layer of paint. the wolf begins to stumble, the only thing he knows how to do. but then he spots it, the closest thing that reminds him of safety. the flowers.
a sunflower, the tiger lily, the cherry blossom, lavender, rose. all bunched together, bending the laws of nature.
the pup takes a seat next to the flowers, and begins to rest his eyes for the first time in too long.
----
the glint of sun hits the wolf's silver pupil while he sees his prey jumping from the tousled shrubbery.
he does the only thing he knows how to do, bares his teeth and charges. soaring with ease over branches, fallen trees, dead foliage.
he runs through full bushes, up floral-patterned hills, down through cracked valleys. his prey still just as far away from him as it had been. the sun is setting now, night spilling over the light.
he’s ready to give up,
until he stumbles. down a hill, a drop that lasts forever, but finally he crashes into the ground. right before his eyes close he spots…
the flowers.
a burnt-out sunflower, the beaten tiger lily, the bleeding cherry blossom, torn lavender, wilted rose. all bunched together, bending his reality into the past, he sees his mother limp away.
he inches closer, pushing his body to its limits just so that he lays next to them. a broken, cracked flower. his petals drooping.
but the rain begins. he forces himself up for a moment before sloppily falling atop the flowers, just to protect them from the ruthless water crystals. the flowers press into his skin as he closes his eyes.
---
they, the flowers, are dead now. plucked from the root, carried on the wolf’s back.
a shining sunflower, the lively tiger lily, the blooming cherry blossom, full lavender, crimson rose.
he carries them on his back, fragilely, ensuring they stay with him til the end.
the wind screams from the trees as the wolf continues on, out of the gloom-filled treeline.
the sun pushes to the horizon, shine overpowering the shadows. across the expansive field, the wolf’s smoky eyes piece together
a familiar silhouette.
About the Creator
Rajan Agrawal
College Student and Published Poet of 2 books.
Day2Day: A poetry book made for those struggling with mental illness
Writers Without a Voice: A poetry compilation from 25 different authors all who live with non-verbal Autism
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heartbreak
i am not going to lie to you my friend, it is not going to be easy nor enjoyable. they may tell you that you will grow, you will not. they may tell you it is for the better, it is not. what i can tell you for certain is that you have learned, you have learned what not to do,
By Rajan Agrawal5 years ago in Poets
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