La Loba

La Loba rose with the sun barely glancing over the desert’s surface. This old hag was as reliable and necessary as the fall dearth marching toward the spring’s refrain. She carried with her a sack in which to store her cache. La Loba shuffled through the sand searching for the bones. A small piece, here or there, or a fully formed skeleton might emerge not yet scattered by the cold March wind. Treasures in tow, she dragged them along the pathless sands returning to the rock outcropping that was her home. La Loba forms a spiral of these pieces of humanity, circling to the vortex which is her. In these bones lie the indestructible potencies of the indomitable soul of womankind’s existence. Calling back the disjointed and dying pieces of our world she spins a spell to invigorate the bones of female intuition. Each bone begins to flesh out, Growing each a separate creature The fleshing bones crackle, as new growth appears upon it. Blood throbs beneath the skin Creating new growth to each new bud of reborn growth. La Loba tosses the fleshed out half formed creatures out across the earth among the women that she finds. Each woman, Writhing in the constraints, of the straightjackets within which they live. Each has the chance to choose to take on the responsibilities that come with La Loba’s gift. Our responsibility to show the world that La Loba’s breath has touched our brow and live a life inclusive of the Wild Child we now comprehend.