Photography

Cae’r Blaidd or ‘field of the wolf’.

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.

Published in The Learned Pig 2017

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