Poetry – Page 4 – THE LONELY WHITE WOLF

the cage that tells me

July 11, 2025

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚖𝚎
𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚜
𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢.
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗,
𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚢𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚜
𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎
𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚝,
𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐,
𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗
𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜, 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔,
𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛,
𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚎,
𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚎.

sparrow

July 9, 2025

𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚕
𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗, 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚜𝚝 𝚒
𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚞𝚝.
𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚎.
𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝,
𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔.
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎.
𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚋
𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎.
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚊𝚖 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏
𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎.

behold

July 7, 2025

behold the sea of absence,
behold the sea of centuries,
my blood kneeling on a
sunken tree,
and the arm of my anguish
pouring out into the
warm air.

lady of light

July 4, 2025

lady of light,
i command you,
i beg you,
hear me speak with unvoice,
hear what i have unsaid,
with this love i love you,
with this i curse you,
the knife in my back,
broken.

when night came

July 2, 2025

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎,
𝚒 𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜
𝚜𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.
𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚟𝚎
𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛
𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜
𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜.
𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚖𝚎,
𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚎,
𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚢 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎,
𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢, 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝,
𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍
𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚎,
𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚛𝚊𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚜
𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙
𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚜
𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢,
𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍
𝚌𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚜.
𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚠𝚗 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜
𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐.
𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚕𝚢
𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎
𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚒𝚛.
𝚒 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍,
𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎.
𝚒 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗,
𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝.

don’t tell me where my eyes are

June 30, 2025

𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎,
𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐.
𝚒 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢,
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍
𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏,
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜,
𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗,
𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚗.
𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍,
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚒 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎,
𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍.
𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚞𝚜.
𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚘𝚘𝚗 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍,
𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍, 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍.
𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜, 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜,
𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐.
𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍.

my heart sets out

June 29, 2025

my heart sets out
from my body to your
last journey
sprout of light,
water of the ages that
is born in you.
lost.

come to my thirst.
now after all.
before.
come to my long thirst
entertained in mouths,
scarce springs.

at last

June 27, 2025

he came, at last, to my hope.
around his eyes, brief, infinite,
knowing nothing.
it is agile and clean like the
tender wind of the early morning,
cheerful and soft and deep as
grass under water.
he gets sad sometimes
with that mural sadness
that makes quick idols on his face
and draws worried ghosts.

i think it’s like a little girl
asking an old lady things,
like a giddy donkey
entering a city,
full of straw.
he also has a mature woman
who suddenly frightens his gaze
and moves inside him and
bites his insides with tears.

rat race

June 23, 2025

𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛,
𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚖?

𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚜
𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚣𝚘𝚘𝚖

𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚞𝚙 𝚖𝚢 𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎

𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝚜𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚎.

𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜
𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚍

𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚒 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚎
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚞𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚗

we

June 20, 2025

we are the land.

we are the memories.

we are the stories.

these rivers do flow,
in our blood.

THE LONELY WHITE WOLF

my secret notebook

Category: Poetry