The Wild in Her

She was not made
for quiet corners
or clipped wings.

There was wild in her—
not loud,
but vast.
The kind that echoed
with river songs
and wind-strewn secrets,
with pine-sweet air
and the hush of ancient trees
keeping watch.

She did not seek the wilderness
to escape herself—
she went to remember.
To stand beneath skies
so wide they stretched her soul,
to feel the steady heartbeat
of moss-covered earth
thrumming in rhythm
with her own.

She belonged to the wild
as much as it belonged to her.
Not owned—
entwined.
The bend of her spirit
mirrored the arc of mountain ridges.
The fire in her lungs
matched the morning sun
spilling gold across a glacial lake.

She moved through forests
like a memory returning home.
Touched bark like prayer.
Spoke to birds without sound.
She was wonder,
made of wilderness.
Uncontained.
Unbroken.
Unapologetically free.

And if you looked closely
when she laughed—
really laughed—
you’d see the whole sky
in her eyes.