A Wild Souled Woman
She does not seek
She stalks
Like, very like the tiny vine who stalks the tree
She walks head up
Driven by her Nature
Like the Lioness who feeds
So that life may live
The Wild Souled Woman
Moves freely
Unadorned
Through the water, the weeds and the Wind
Nature is hers
She owns Her
Alerted by aromas
The sweet of the flower
And the Stench of Decay
She knows where she is
And is not
This Wild Souled Woman
Is an I Am
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem