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Wild — A poem

March 5, 2015

I wrote this poem back in 2010 in a trance state while reading Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes book Women Who Run with the Wolves. I was somewhere between sleep and consciousness when it happened. Let’s just say, I had an out of body experience and when I came to, this poem was written. And maybe that’s why it’s stayed with me as one of the most powerful, telling poems I’ve ever written. In a few lines, it relays how I exist in the world, my fierceness and vulnerability, and how important this writing life is to me as a woman, a teacher, and a mother. After writing this poem, I took on the moniker Loba. Why? This poem is my answer.

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Wild
By Vanessa Mártir

my wild seed arrived on the wind today
split up swiftly like fertilized egg
nestled in uterus lining
she dug in her roots and blossomed
dandelion iris lily
poison tipped rose venus fly trap
for those who dare
velvet petaled violet
for those who want more

me llaman criatura salvaje
unharnessed unrefined uncontrolled
loose disrespectful bad girl
soiled sullied and used
because I dance in the streets
and scream when my throat itches
I will not be tamed
I will not be caged
I’m not a f*cking horse or bison
you cannot toss a rope around my neck
drag pull whip
until I acquiesce
I will not be yoked
don’t fuck with this Wild Woman

I run with wolves
howl at the moon
even when she’s not full
and she purrs back
croons her sister song
for she too is wild like me

Ella, la que sabe,
She was the ocean before the tides pulled
the sky before She married herself to the earth
the stars before They made heaven their blanket

Ella,
She takes hold of me
pleads,
grita la historia de la Mujer libre
untethered and unbound

so these are the Women I write for
the one enslaved in brothels
the one flinching under a fist
the one whose hands are blistered and calloused
from toiling the fields
the one that walks for miles to bring water to Her son
the one that’s been told for centuries
that She’s not good enough
subordinate
inferior
just a piece of Adam’s rib

I write for her
because at night
when all is silent
and She’s finally alone
She remembers and honors
that wild woman
the one you hear
feint whispers in your ear
that roar like dragon’s breath
telling you you got this, baby girl
Tu eres La Loba
She lives on
In You

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