Met a bear who proclaimed himself to be a man;
knew the instant I spotted him – lumbering
gait approaching – that he was an animal,
feared for my safety, would have retreated
stayed at my mother’s side – sheltered in
familiarity – were I not so fixated on his
blatant woundedness. Sympathy blinding
sensibility, i listened, hypnotized
by the whiteness of his exposed skin –
wanted to believe the veracity of his
tales of conversion – could visualize
him sitting in church, imagine the
horror of the congregants melting,
as I was, into acceptance, drinking
in his words, hearts soaring at his
professed abstinence from sins
of the flesh; none of immune to
fairy-tale endings; faith above all.
Left the sanctity of mother’s fold;
followed him to his wooded lair;
read humility into his minimalist
housing, swept away his cobwebs
and my dreams, determined to
find fulfillment in domesticity.
The forest has it own story to tell –
nature does not lie – a beast does not
its essence forget, in time his true
temperament emerged, and I, lost
withered into a crumpled ball,
a wisp of a character, weakened,
disheartened; could not bend
myself to become either bear
nor Goldilocks; could not tame
his insatiable grumblings nor
abide long winters confined;
discovered too late the folly
of my girlish fantasies, learned
that sympathy did not beget love,
and denying instincts did not alter
the fact that a bear is not a man.
(Poem first appeared here April 2016. Couldn’t resist the accompanying image – photoshopped by yours truly)
One Woman's Quest 