A Pledge Against the Wolf

Mike has arrived safely in Sudan and my friend is feeling slightly better in Bangkok, though not yet out of the woods. And I am back to my birds-in-old-stuff theme. I wrote this a long time ago--nearly ten years now, when I was living in Chicago. I found the pigeons there emblematic of the Spirit--they could be found everywhere, no matter how dark the alley and how desperate the company. They nested on the far side of our bathroom wall in some sort of abandoned chimney--if you put your ear to the wall you could hear them shuffling and cooing, and I found this comforting.

A Pledge Against the Wolf
I will not strengthen the wolf in me.
I will not feed its slavering jaws
I will not pace in its rough coat
down dark and ungodly places.
I will not dwell in the house of the wicked.
I will not feed the wolf in me.

I will be encircled by wings,
feathered denizens, the motley guardians of my soul—
the Spirit, near and fierce and fearless.
I am surrounded by pigeons
and no alley is too dark for their bright and unblinking eyes.
I call upon the winged creatures of heaven
to surround me, fluttering and fond,
to save me
from that which prowls and seeks to devour.

I will starve the wolf;
I will feed the pigeons
until they are too many to be counted;
until the wolf is thin and weak and to be pitied—
and then, and only then,
the birds will rise,
the air will shake with the beating of their wings and the peal of their cries
and they will carry bread in their beaks
healing in their wings,
and tend the sick creature,
and the wolf will become a tame thing
which loves the light,
and its Maker—
A forgiven creature,
that lies down and sleeps in safety.
Amen. May it be so.
* * *

When I first sent this to a friend, he wrote back and said that matters in his soul were more akin to a pack of weasels. I trust this is no longer the case and I close with Picasso...