22.9.18

The Wolf Bridegroom

So, my father married me off to a wolf. He married me off to teeth and claws and the taste of sweet hot blood. He was an authority figure himself, and if he had to let me go, he said, he wanted me still tethered to a force greater than that of my liberal imagination. Thus it was I married a wolf.






I went in virginal white, like first spring blossoms and first spring rains, into the forest. I met a husband of light eyes, sweat-scented pelt, and something so fierce in his smile that I almost turned and ran. I was not frightened of him, only of my own sudden longings. He took me deep into the forest.

And I learned what it meant to have married a wolf.

It was shy glances through the shadows, singing poetry to the moon, running through the wind until my eyes burned and my heart burned with a savage bliss I'd never before known. And it was a large, raucous family of in-laws who welcomed me with open arms and toothy smiles, helping me to find my own true laugh.

It was wild, gentle love.

My father with his authority and his birch rod words never did understand what real power looked like. I married a king of freedom, and became free myself.


MY BOOKS

In the quiet hours, the inbetween moments and the half-light, I sometimes like to write. My books are made from fairytale shadow and old magical songs. They speak about dreams, lost wishes, longing for something beyond the self, and always about love. You can learn about them here.

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