Can you love me when I drink from the wrong bottle and slip through the crack in the floorboard?
Can you love me under the starry sky and liquid moonlight?
Can you love me when I am howling with fury, standing on my haunches, my lower lip quivering with anger?
When I call down the lightning as the sidewalks singed the soles of my feet, can you still love me then?
What happens when I freeze the land and cause the dirt to harden over all the seeds we’ve planted?
Will you trust that Spring will return?
Will you still believe me when I tell you I will become a raging river,
spilling myself upon your dreams and call them to the surface of your life?
Can you trust me, even though you cannot tame me?
Can you love me, even though I am what you fear and admire?
Will you fear my shifting shape?
Does it frighten you when my eyes flash as your camera does?
Do you fear I’ll capture your soul?
You cannot be with a wild one if you fear the rumbling of the ground, the roar of a cascading river, the startling clap of thunder in the sky. So, come to me and be healed in the unbearable lightness and darkness of all that you are. A wild woman is not a girlfriend because she is in a relationship with nature. She is the source of wild wind whipping around you.
If you are kind to her, she may restore you to your own wild nature.
That’s who I am! I’ve always been an outdoor girl who loves everything about nature. Soon, my teepee will arrive, and that’s where I’ll be . . . Dr. Deb