Remember when you were wild —
Untamed. Feral. Free.
When you ran too fast
And fell too hard.
When the wind called your name,
And you danced barefoot through puddles.
You were wild once —
Wearing perfume made from weeds.
Flying with birds,
Running with horses,
Before the nines and fives,
Before the buildings that touched the sky.
Do you remember
The taste of blackberries
Straight from the bramble —
Sweet, sharp, staining your mouth purple?
We were wild once,
Before we grew into tamed creatures —
Domesticated, older, shoe-wearing.
Do you remember?
You’re still wild to me.
Author’s Note
Remember that nineties childhood? Making perfume from garden petals. Eating fruit straight from wild bushes that seemed to grow everywhere.
As we grow older — caught in the rhythms of 9-to-5s and the demands of home-making — it’s easy to forget the child we once were.
We forget our own magic. But the friends and siblings who grew up beside us? They don’t forget. They carry those memories with them, tucked safely into their hearts.
To them, you will always be wild.
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(Soft power. Sharp edges. Sacred words.)
