You, Creature

A poem

You are not a businessman.

You are not a CPA

or a firefighter

or a real estate agent.

You are not a

digital

marketing

media

professional.

You are not a division head

or an

executive

assistant

to the Vice President

of Domestic Operations.

Not really.

And you know it,

or you did know it,

once,

and have forgotten.

You are a

warm,

hungry,

sleepy,

needy

animal

who must curl up to another

and be loved.

Do not believe - as you’d like to -

that your fancy phone

or your expensive shoes

or your espresso maker from Italy

make you

a superior being.

You aren't.

You are an animal.

It is not an insult to say this: it is an insult

to pretend

otherwise.

You, creature, must nourish yourself

until you are no longer hungry.

You must rest your body

until it is not so tired.

You must run

and jump

and howl.

You must hide and pounce and paw at the dirt

and you must hunt down

what you are determined to have.

And late at night,

when your den or pack is at rest,

you must shed your ego,

for animals have none.

Softly

you must pad over to your family,

as your instinct instructs you,

and curl your warm body around theirs

knowing

you will not be refused.

~

That's right:

you will not be refused.

When the morning light first appears

it will wake you.

The new day means

hunting

plotting

speeding, exhilarated, over the plains,

and it means danger, too,

be it great or small.

But all of that can wait.

For right now

you are just a wild creature

tangled up in limbs and whiskers and paws

against the steady breathing

of the ones you love.

They love you, too.

~

There will be time enough

for email

for mergers

for soy lattes

for pants that don't stretch.

But there is

never

enough

time

for love,

so bask in it.

Let it save you.