Poets, Mavericks & Prophets

It’s like Tennessee said,

The wild knows what it has lost.

Nothing is as tender as when it is free.

But if I would retrace my steps, not fall,

How would I know the way blood feels?

And the mellow touch of the grass below?

The warmth of another.

This loss of innocence.

Empty steps to the next cell.

So here I am, howling at the stars,

With all the other caged things.

Praying that I remember.

~

©Milana Vujkov, Maverick Minds, 2020