We could live all our lives
in suburban toyland
with no discomfort,
with our pretend jobs,
with tools that are not dangerous,
that sort of work

We could tell ourselves
there’s no reason for
that reckless longing
that keeps rising up —

We could beat it back
through shopping,
live all our lives that way
But they would be short —
We’d die of shallowness,
of not being able
to get a deep breath

We’d die of feeling no danger,
no aliveness
We’d die because fear
would come and get us anyway
in our little holes
because fear is never conquered
by running from it

We can’t live all our lives
in suburban wasteland.
Wilderness calls us
and from deep in our throats,
deep in our guts,
we answer.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 17, 2014