Go out into the woods and hold a marriage ceremony —
Marry the root-talking trees and the rustling-leafed silence and the sun sifting through overhead.
Marry the wings-on-wind ones, and the quiet-never-knew-they-were-there ones and the ones who wake only at night.
Say, I do, to the fragrant decay of the forest and the new life always underfoot.
Say, to you I promise to be true, to the grassy clearing that glows at dusk and the coyotes howling, shepherding in the stars.
Say, I take thee, to the wild one within, who you may only remember when you look up at the moon or lay down in a meadow or when your heart breaks or a horrible pain strips you of your tameness.
Say, in sickness or in health, to the wild in you, who pleads for your return, though often you don't hear.
Maybe because you never learned how to, maybe because you're afraid to, maybe because you know it would upend your orderly life.
I had heard it said once, in a culture past that our soul was our marriage to the wild,
so if you want to know your soul —
go out into the woods and hold a marriage ceremony.
-Leyla Aylin
Art | Gordon Crabb
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