Wild Child

By Lena Morin, 21, Canada

on a school trip to Toronto

I bought myself a souvenir

a keychain from Canada’s Wonderland.

I couldn’t find one with my name on it

and the others had silly nicknames etched into them

so that day I dubbed myself

Wild Child

maybe it’s true

maybe I am wild

in fact, maybe I am many kinds of wild

ebbing and flowing

with my moods.

in the forest of my mind,

iterations of my wild run free.

maybe I am wild

as in

more beast than woman

more guttural snarl than graceful sigh

when I can’t tame my temper

I crouch over my latest kill.

my claws

jagged

unyielding

rip apart flesh.

carcass and fangs glint

in moonlight and blood

as I devour the creature unfortunate enough

to cross my path.

maybe I am wild

as in

more fairy than human

more daffodil dress than silk suit

when calm overflows from my chest

into my surroundings

I pick blueberries in the meadow.

my laugh

melodic

fluid

trickles from my rosy lips.

untamed locks and wildflowers bloom

from my crown

as I dip my toes into the stream serendipitous enough

to cross my path.

maybe I am wild

as in

more spirit than human

more divine soul than flesh and bone

when my existence can no longer be

contained by my body

I rise into the cosmos.

my spirit

radiant

intangible

cascades through the milky way.

love and light emanate

from my being

as I intertwine with anything transcendent enough

to cross my path.

yes, I believe

I am a wild child

sometimes human

sometimes beast, fairy, or merely

a soul in this lifetime

I am capable of

many transformations

that school trip was years ago

but I still keep my keys on that keychain

to remind myself

of all the wild

in my Wonderland

---

This piece is about discovering many facets of my identity throughout my early twenties. I am learning that who I am cannot be defined by a few words or phrases; my identity is always in flux. I do not have to label myself, now or ever. I simply am who I am.

Photo by freestocks