This is a poem I wrote a few years ago and have revised a little
Pack instinct
It is all so primitive and pagan.
They are my lost cubs
and I want to lick them better
heal wounds civilisation and cruel men have inflicted.
I see scratches on their souls
and wounds so deep
that even my grandmother’s tongue
cannot reach.
Distance could never hide my anguish
of cubs lost to an alien world
but now we are united again
I can lick their sores
bathe them in water too pure for rats
groom their fur and let their paws
touch my eyes, my ears, my nose.
We nuzzle together
a bundle of warm bodies
All so primitive and primeval
this repairing of bonds
eating together from the same bowl
sniffing around for familiar scents
So pagan and peaceful
this natural existence
that the civilised world
cannot, does not
and will never, understand.
Sally James
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