ONCE THERE WERE WOLVES

Graphite painted on paper
22″ x 28″

A labor of love, a bittersweet memorial, a somber ode to wolves past, present, and future.

I could explain how habitats crumble in the absence of wolves. I could scream about wolves being culled, tortured, and shot down from planes by men throwing fear-fit tantrums. I could weep for the wolves–like this one pictured here– who have been slaughtered by vigilante poachers less than a few miles outside of the boundaries of protected parks.

Or I could let the wolves tell their own tale. It’s high time we stop talking and let the wolves speak. Let them speak of the ancient knowledge they hold in their close-knit packs. Let them model how to pass knowledge of the lands they map and mold with each pawstep.

Can you hear the ardenthearted howls of balance and kinship and wildness wolves sing through the land?

Waving seas of willows and wildflowers part for the wolf as she wanders. She takes elk to nourish her pack, leaving ungrazed plants to fortify rivers from erosion. The lush riparian blooms harbor pollinators, birds, and rodents who thrive through the seasons. A web of resilience and community is woven.

Our wolf strides through this reinvigorated landscape, looking over her shoulder one last time before stepping out of the imaginary boundary of safety, leaving her fate to the great unknown.

In her wake, the web trembles. Whispers of wisdom weave with the wind.

Wolves have much to share with us, if we can open our hearts to listen.