WILDLINGS

This goes out to the mamas

raising the wild ones

the not to be tamed

the rare

the reckless

and the precious

you are shaping stardust

into human form

minding moonlight

till it’s ready to instruct the tides

and light the nights

do not expect the world to see

your diamond in the rough

sparkle

not yet

they cannot

but one day

they will be unable

to take their eyes away

from its shine

to the mamas of the wild ones

you are star gatherers

moon catchers

and dream shapers

and you are exhausted

but shaping starlight

into human form

was always going to be tough

and you are.

Donna Ashworth

This poem is in Wild Hope