A Wolf at the Door

9 months since the last time
I saw your face.

For some reason you value
the little my friendship has to offer you.
Enough to make the trip
with a new tiny person in tow.

I held your little one.
We marvelled at the fact we both hold
the ultimate feminine power,
to create life.

New life,
untarnished, fresh, pure
beautiful and unharmed.

I forgot to offer you a drink.
(I was never a very accomplished hostess),
but I cooked a meal,
I tried my best.

And having someone enter my space,
this private space
that has become my sanctuary.
Why is that so difficult for me?

With you, you brought
memories of my past.
Memories that ache.
Memories, scarred into my subconscious.
Memories, rushing home
to knock me backwards.
Make me stagger, a little.

A time of confusion.
A predator, since repressed,
but never truly absent,
etched into my history.
Despite my love for you,
As a strong woman,
A friend, one of my tribe.

Despite this,
you reminded me.

Musings and theories of their whereabouts.
I dare say your theories were correct.

A person of dishonesty.
A person of manipulation.
A wolf at the door.

I remember all too well,

“you can’t trust any of them
you can only trust me”

And all the time
a family, kept secret.
While they stalked their prey.

Yes, I am less naive these days.
I have learnt how to sense a predator,
before they sense me,
with all my vulnerabilities.

And vulnerability,
they can smell it you know.

I wasn’t always so on guard.

And yes, I value your friendship.
Even if you remind me of those days.
You have never faltered,
despite my indiscretions,
my secrets, my errors,
my shame, my regret.
My pain that I know you see,
but I refuse to share with you.

It must be difficult to be a friend of mine.

You are innocent, honest.
You see the good in everyone
and that makes you beautiful.

I’m sorry that my wellbeing was flattened
by your visit.
You probably noticed the drop in my energy.

I just can’t seem to get through an interaction,
without losing myself a little.



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