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There is an old language.
Older than that.
And older still.
it sounds like
clumps of fur
or scratches
or pressed mud
or broken sticks
or feathers
or bones
or eggshells
or droppings
or other wild words.
So even though,
you may have forgotten,
it’s never too late.
The wild words never left you.
Then feel with your heart.
Only then-
and maybe, just maybe,
you’ll hear them say,
We’ve missed you.”

I was inspired by the images below, of scratches in some fallen logs and the clumps of fur. The poem came to me almost immediately, which I fleshed out on the rest of my walk. I believe that our more-than-human kin speak to us in various ways, some more visible in others, as indicated by these visible signs of wildlife. Our ancestors were more familiar with this language, the words and signs of tracking and animal identification, but many of us ‘…may have forgotten’ how to speak & interpret this language. Yet the language isn’t gone forever, and if we listen with our hearts and take the time to learn, we can hear what they have to say.

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Featured photo: Diana Parkhouse