Oh, they have claimed to.

Perhaps, in the beginning, they have wanted to believe that it was so. Wanted to think that that they were capable of such a love.

But always, in the end, they have tried to tame the wolf of me, to keep her small and safe and contained.

They have all, in the end, been afraid of the heat of her fire.

Know this: To tame a wild thing is never an act of love. It is an act of containment, of force. A call against nature and instinct and the primal force of the shadows.
Consider this your warning:

I am calling things forth now. I am claiming space and defining territory. I am defining my own agency and ownership of body. I am rooting in ritual and rising in power.

So if you come to me now – if you want to love me – you must first listen:

Do not try quiet my voice.
Do not attempt to soften my edges or tame my prowl.
I am inhabiting my wild.
I am encompassing the dance.
I am no longer burning down.
That time is over.
I am the white hot ignition.
I am starting the fire.
I am rising like flame.

You want to come with me? Then step closer to the heat. Meet me in the sliver of space between passion and truth where all is white hot and even the shadows are dancing.

Meet me there, the the heart of the wild, with your naked skin and and your own hallowed heat.

And know this: If you want to love a wolf – you’d best be ready to hear her howl.

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