The Boy Raised By Wolves

I have hidden him in my house
safe within the four small walls
of the room under the attic

Safe from those who would hunt him
this beautiful man
who had been raised by wolves
deep in the forest

I can hear him pacing during the day
though he knows he has to remain silent,
to not look out the window,
even though the birds call to him
& the edge of the wood beckons

I will keep him with me because
I love him.  I love the wildness in his eyes,
the way they catch the light of the candle
which I bring to light my way to him in the night

Last night, after we had lain together,
I watched him stand at the window in the moonlight;
a rabbit hopped out onto the back lawn
& sat looking up, ears twitching
My love’s eyes shone green in the darkness,
his nostrils flared to the scent of flesh & of blood

I know that I will have to release him;
Wolves are not made to live in houses
& even though they may love
they will always love the moon more
Tonight, however, I hold the soul of Forest,
the man who is a wolf pretending to be a man,
close within my encircling arms

Tomorrow night he will run
through the moondrenched field behind my house,
pausing once to turn and look back
at the edge of the woods,
before he fades into the darkness
& the trees & the night