Solitary Creature

New kid lost in a new world, when separated from what was known and loved, alone when separated. Some animals regrow lost parts of themselves: twisted limbs or tail. Parasites die without another to depend on. They die when separated. Barnacularly reaching out to anyone who will notice, with bird-like wails, desperate to be seen, to survive, before it is then separated. In the wild, all alone, wolf pups take shelter in the safety of their mother, away from dark trails and the infinite unknown , not wanting to meet an end, separated. Pack predators isolate the weak and frail. Only the strong can stand without roots, but even they are not meant to contend separated. What fragile things children are. To their adult counterparts, they pale in comparison in stature, knowledge, and ability. They are useless without them when separated. The young float about in protective bubbles, tales in the making, growing from the guidance they have received, choosing their stories to pen, separated. Making decisions on repeat, weighing them on Life’s scale with hope the mistakes don’t outweigh the right, but they are then separated. Uncertainty, that haunting quale which can break the solitary Garland which circles a room full of strangers, unable to connect when separated.