no hope in the eyes of the dead

Meadow stands across from the russet woman, watching as anger rolls across her face before she casts her gaze down and shakes her head, whispering her uncertainty to the dead wolf’s statement. The earthen wolf folds her haunches coming to sit near the ritual site, her ethereal form shifting with each gust of the wind while her gaze remains solid and locked on the hurting woman. Several moments pass before the dead woman speaks, her words soft but there is an unmistakable strength in her tone as she says, “Matters of heart are always difficult to navigate sweet lady. But, love comes in many forms.”

Silence falls as Meadow allows the woman to sit with those words for a moment before continuing on, “While you yearn for a connection with someone, I think it is important to remember that you have so many wolves that love you. Being dead allows you to see things more clearly and love always leaves marks.” As her words fill the air, the ghosts emerald gaze roams over the woman’s red coat, seeing each wolf’s love for her stamped on her body like badges of honor. If only she could see them and truly understand the breath of just how much joy she brings others.

A warm smile appears on ghostly lips as she adds, “Wolves come into your life for a reason. There is something special about you, sweet lady. Although your heart is wounded right now, I want you to know that you have a great ability to love.” Meadow’s voice falls off as she considers how to make her understand that the reason she hurts so much is because the russet wolf loves so deeply. Unable to find the right words, she offers this instead, “You bring joy to every wolf you meet. While I can see you are loved, I can also see the happiness and love you give to others. The world needs more wolves like you, sweet lady.”


"Meadow Lark"