The Wolf Within the Woods

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The woods are deep, the path is long,

To reach the places we belong.

Not every forest grows in loam-

Some rise beneath the ribs of home.

Within a man, untamed, unseen,

A wolf keeps watch where scars have been.


He made his den from what he knew:

From broken trust, from silence too.

From winters where he learned to stay

Alert through night, alive till day.

A hollowed place, both dark and warm,

A shelter shaped to ride the storm.


So listen well, before you tread

Across the ground above his head.

For though he does not bare his teeth,

He knows your weight, he knows your breath.

By scent of tone, by shift of air,

He knows when someone’s drawing near.


Curiosity may lead you on,

To peer into where he’s withdrawn.

But understand, before you try,

That not all doors are meant to pry.

A den is not a thing to prove,

Nor something owed for being moved.


Imagine then-turned inside out-

Your private world exposed to doubt.

A stranger comes with careless hands,

Rearranges what he can’t understand.

Points and names and leaves a mess

Where once there lived a tenderness.


How would it feel, inside your chest,

To have no place to guard or rest?

To have your quiet pulled apart,

Your instincts questioned, judged as art?

This is the trespass wolves still know-

This is why some choose not to show.


If you would walk where he resides,

Step softly. Leave your need outside.

Do not demand he bare his core,

Or tame himself to be adored.

Observe. Be still. Let trust be slow.

A den is earned, not forced open so.


And if you cannot promise this-

To honor what his silence is,

To treat his guarded ground with care,

Not hunt for truths you’re not prepared

To hold with grace, or keep from harm-

Then turn away. Mean no alarm.


Because a wolf’s den, deep and true,

Is sacred ground he built to live through.

A place to heal, a place to dream,

A place where he can still be him.

To violate that inner space

Is not brave love, but quiet disgrace.


So choose your steps with thoughtful pace,

In forests seen-and those in face.

For harmony is not control,

But reverence for another soul.

Respect the wolf. Respect the man.

And walk his woods-if so-you can.




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