Being Seen

“I see you. You have a wild thing inside,” he said.
I felt calmed and comforted by the acknowledgment.
I do have a wild thing, a feral animal inside.

I lived for my time on my horse. My time in the woods. My time turning over rocks down at the stream.
The places I felt myself.
I could bury my feet in the mud and not feel stuck.
Make potions and play wild.

I am the barn cat caged. The deer startled mid-stream. The wild turkeys bursting from the trees.

He sees it and tells me it’s alright.