The sheep and the wolf...

August poetry number twenty-eight. A rewrite.

The sheep and the wolf…

The man lifted his bottle of cheap wine,
he told the passing people.
“You can’t go back after the words are spoken
to cut down a sweet love. You cannot make wishes to dead dreams”
The old man didn’t ask for coin.
He stared at the sea and he was waiting.
Waiting for the final sweet dream to appear or maybe death?

The pretty young girl was rocking her baby.
She told me. “I will be okay and I don’t need no-one.”
She was holding unto me so tightly and
I could see she was wishing for me to stay and go at the same moment.

My Grandfather never married again.
55 years with my Grandmother.
He told me. “I miss the old girl. She was so damn mean.
A good woman she was.”
I felt sorry for him. He was very glad when us Grandchildren came by.
He would tell me. “Grandma would be proud of you. I’m proud of you.”

The woman danced in the open square in the center of San Francisco.
She didn’t know how to be embarrassed.
I smiled. Her beauty and energy for living made my heart come alive.
I danced the waltz on lonely beaches with her and
the moon and stars were our audience.
We stole the stages at the jazz bar.
She was a delight, so rare in a life.
I didn’t hold on too tightly.
I wanted my lady of happiness to feel free and alive.

The woman begs me to stay.
Her gift of flesh was tempting.
I saw love in her eyes.
I tried to tell her.
“I’m dead. My heart had been cremated. All I can teach you is how to be alone.”
I left her crying tears for a dead man.
I tried to thank her, but when the heart is young.
Words are meaningless. The desire and hunger of the flesh control the mind
and the body.

The Wolf told the sheep.
“Come to my den. I will treat you so gentle, I will love you.
I will eat your flesh slowly, till I kill every bit of kindness that is left.
You will be dead, like me.”
You will become the Wolf. Instead of the prey.”

I am sitting alone on the road.
There is blood upon my hands.
I have lost control of my desire and I can not move.
I yelled at the people walking near.
“Love someone. For one day you will be alone.
It will be too late to wish for forgiveness.”

The Wolf is at my feet,
his teeth are dripping with flesh blood.
He told me. “My friend. You are my best student.
Your deeds have taught me new tricks. You have become my teacher.”

I tried to run from the Wolf.
I ran into the sea and
I looked at the setting sun.
I prayed to the sea for forgiveness.

Love and pain. Hate and kindness.
Words of love and words of sadness are scars, tattoos on our heart and mind forever.
Emotions are a journey to understand,
we will pay for all sins in the end.

I may play the prey, I may be the teacher of pain.
Dreams will fade away. Tenderness will evaporate into the wind.
I will not try to repent. Deeds done to use and abuse will be returned
in hell.

On a warm sunny day.
I can forget the pain.
I can even remember to smile and
now I learn to speak less.
The ocean is in my view,
create a peace and calmness for me.
I wish for thing gone and lost.

I understand there is no peace for a man who wanted everything.

                      Coyote
                     1982

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[W. Barrett Munn]

Coyote, this: "when the heart is young.
Words are meaningless. The desire and hunger of the flesh control the mind
and the body." is the most real and true thing I've ever read in poetry anywhere.
The whole poem is wonderful, but these lines - painfully accurate.
Winston

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you my friend. We learn many lessons and one day. We learn. Better to have befriended many and not die alone.