Number-one bestselling author
what to get
him for Love
Day. It had
never been my
favourite day, it
had always been
a day of
heartache instead of
light. I commented
on this one
night as Love
Day was fast
approaching. He took
my hands in
his and smiled.
“You don’t have to get me anything.”
He said kindly.
“But I do. I have to find something for you that shows you how much I love you.”
He saw the
look of anguish
on my face
and smiled again.
“You already have given me something.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“You have. Look.”
He took my
hand and touched
it to his
chest. Under my
hand, a brilliant
golden light began
to shine forth.
“That’s your heart. You gave it to me the first time you told me you loved me.”
I felt my
hearts warmth emanating
from him. He
took his hand
and pressed it
to my chest.
Gold light spilled
from beneath his
hand and the
light pulsated in
time with the
light that came
from his chest.
“If you have my heart, what’s inside of you?”
“Don’t you know?”
I shook my
head, seeing him
smile once again.
“It’s my heart. I gave it to you the first time I told you I loved you.”
I was breathless
with want for
him at that
moment and kissed
him softly on
his gorgeous lips.
When our lips
met, our hearts
sang to each
other, filling the
room with soft
golden light
of police cars in
front of my building.
They dotted the pavement,
their lights shining like
flowers caught in the snow.
Entering my building,
I saw a stretcher in front
of the elevators. It was
red and empty. I wondered
what had happened,
if someone was hurt.
I saw the super standing
by the elevators, as if lost.
He looked unreachable.
I moved towards him,
called his name softly so
that he would hear me.
I had the sense something
was very wrong indeed.
He looked up at me,
hearing my approach.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
My voice seemed loud,
echoing off the lobby walls,
the lobby itself somehow
bigger than it was.
When he raise his eyes to mine,
they were red and swollen,
tears having dried along his face,
marking his skin like ink.
“You know the man downstairs?”
He asked me. His voice was cracked
and dry, as if he had forgotten
how to speak. I shook my head,
unsure of who he meant.
“He wasn’t well. Very paranoid. He’d changed his locks so no one could get in.”
I was silent, not sure what to say;
not sure there was anything
that could be said. The super
let out a sound that was
part breathe of release
and part sob. He took a
deep breath and I imagined him
swallowing the sob, as if he
taking it back into him.
“I’ve never seen a dead body. People were complaining about the smell.”
I found my voice, a small
quiet part of it that slipped
past my lips
“Didn’t anyone know him? Any family? Someone must have known him.”
The super shook his head,
more tears sliding down his
face in the tracks left
by the ones that had dried.
“He didn’t have anyone. He was alone.”
The sob broke free then and he
turned away for a moment.
When he turned back, he was
more composed, holding it together.
“You always hear about this in the movies, you know? This doesn’t feel like a movie.”
I nodded, my voice having gone again.
I needed to get away, to feel the
cool air upon my face.
As I walked out of my building,
I watched the blue and red lights
make patterns on the snow.
I breathed in the air,
relishing its bite,
grateful that I was alive
to feel it upon my skin.
When I walked back into my building,
they were bringing the stretcher
out of the elevator. This time,
it wasn’t empty. This time,
the man lay upon it,
encased in a cocoon. It reminded me
of a red chrysalis.
I stood to the side as
other men took the man outside
and away from me.
I watched him go and wondered
why there was no one that
would find out about him,
no one who would miss him,
mourn his passing, no one
who would remember him
for the man that he used to be.
I gave the super a final nod,
which he returned, before
going back inside my apartment.
Once inside, gathered some sage
that I had purchased.
I said a short prayer for him
and hoped that he could hear me.
“I just want you to know that even though we never met, I’ll remember you.”
I took a breath than and
lit the sage, watching the flakes
turn into fragrant smoke.
“You’re free now. Free. So be at peace. I’ll remember you.”
As I watched the smoke
from the sage float towards the ceiling,
I pictured his spirit,
free from the chrysalis of his body.
I pictured his spirit.
He had finally grown wings
so that he could fly
home. I watched the sage
burn out.
“I’ll remember you.”
I said.
Hey Everyone!
I have the most awesome of news! Talking with the Earth, the follow up to the Number One Best Selling Talking to the Sky, is released in eBook!
How awesome is that? I’m thrilled!
Here’s the book blurb:
Talking with the Earth contains poems that are part memoir, part journey to healing. All the conversations contained within are real or imagined.
The poems are the author’s attempt to find his place in the world and to carve his own path through life.
With unflinching honesty, Wolf talks about disease, sexuality, physical disability and the healing power of love.
Take a walk along the Earth, won’t you?
It’s out in eBook now and you can find it here:
It’ll be out in paperback shortly. In the meantime, get yourself an eBook copy and start reading today!
It collects a year’s worth of poems as I continue to find my voice anew and hone it. A lot of the poems in the collection really surprised me. Unlike Talking to the Sky, this time around, I remember every one.
I am so proud of this book. I hope you come with me on my journey.
With the Wind
as your steed,
you glide forward,
never looking back.
With the Stars
as your armor,
you are protected
and stand against
those who would
keep you down.
With the Sun
as your shield,
you defend the
honour of those
that you love.
With your Light
as your sword,
you cut away
at the darkness
so that you
continue to shine
bright for all
that know you.
Your strength and
wisdom are a
constant source of
inspiration and we
can only hope
to one day
shine as brightly
as you do.
*For Jackie, who is awesomeness personified. Happy Birthday!!!
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
The truth was,
as I saw
the woman approaching
along the crosswalk,
a smile of
recognition on her
face, I figured
she knew me.
As she came
closer, I searched
for her name,
tried to recall
it, tried to
pluck it out
of the fog
that had bloomed
inside my head
like a flower
made of fog.
As she got
near to me
and saw no
smile of recognition
in my face,
she slowed and
the smile faded
from her mouth.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
I looked at
her, at the
shape of her
face, heard the
tone of her
voice. I dived
into the fog
and hoped I
would come out
with her name.
Once, when I
saw someone who
I knew, I
called her by
a different name,
Sarah instead of
Stacey. She had
been insulted but
I didn’t bother
explaining. She wouldn’t
have understood. I
swam inside the
fog that was
like a flower
this time and
came up for
air, clutching a
name. I let
it flow from
my tongue and
hoped it was
the right one.
“Of course I know you. You’re Joanne.”
She smiled, but
it didn’t have
the same vitality
as before. She
looked slightly put
out as if
remembering her name
didn’t let me
off the hook
entirely. We talked
briefly, but it
lacked the warmth
there would have
been had I
greeted her with
a smile. I
knew she was
unnerved by the
blankness and nothingness
the fog that
not only swam
inside my head
but along my
face. We said
our goodbyes and
I walked home
proud of myself
for having remembered
her name.