The last wolf died in this place
but the hour of the wolf remains
and the wolves call for us, call for you
calling haunting us with their calling
calling for us over and over again
It is the time when we cross over
as some people say of the passing away
in the early hours when coldness
an imperceptible drop in temperature
loosens our will, loosens our grip on life
and the wolf crosses with us too
it has nowhere else to go after all.
A time we no longer speak of
the easing of souls young and old
the hour of the wolf remains taboo.
It is a way with our family at this time
that we sit in vigil, a candle burning
talk of remembrance, of memories
of life and the sadness of leaving.
But whatever we say the wolf remains
at the door until our time comes too.
And the wolf patiently waits for the hour
waits at the door to call as it must do.
Part of The Learned Pig’s Wolf Crossing editorial season, spring/summer 2017.
Cover image: Rob Cullen.
