Home

This is a sacred place. Every place, is a sacred place.

That is something I must tell myself every hour to not forget what my purpose. I still remember when these lands bursted with life and green. When trees were high as the sky, when roots strong as mountains sprung from below, when grass was a fountain of life, when leaves would only fall brown, and not a single flower would die before being born.

These are sacred lands. This was house to all those that make ‘life’ be something to be proud of. I still remember when baby racoons would run along squirrels atop tree branches, when the foxes would rest with much care at the river’s shores, when butterflies would complete their circle, when deers fed on the green planes, when hundreds of birds would have their little nests hanging from every single branch, and when a mice could lay aside a trunk, not waiting for a greater force to end her short-lived existence.

This is a sacred place. I still can feel the emotions of those beings that didn’t want to leave. I can still smell the fear they emanated when the first thunderbolts cried from those pieces of wood and steel, I can still taste the sorrow that was bled on the green grounds that compound this temple of life, I can still see the happiness and relief that sprung in them when the sounds of explosions and crashes stopped for the first time, I can still touch the concern left by the wiser ones when they saw their children go back to the earth, and I can still listen to my land’s desperate cry for help.

This was a sacred land. Now, there are barely few herbs growing. Now, the ground is broken and holed. Now, gray and black are the only colors that cover this temple. Now, there are now leaves to fall. Now, there are no spores to expand beauty across the planes.

This was my home. Now, no rodent dares roam these grounds. Now, there are no rivers for the restless to find peace. Now, caterpillars can’t even born before finding an end to what I used to call life. Now, there are no eggs to hatch into souls. Instead, diminute bones are what you can find laying next to dead trunks.

This is a sacred place. This was my home. This is a temple of life. This was a spring of peace. This is where death found comfort. This was where God brought beauty. This is where the Devil laid his hand. This was where man hadn’t tried his luck.

This will be my home again. Because I have been watching, because it has been far too long the time I hid in the shadows, because man has already brought too much chaos. Because I am the green, I am the revenge of those who fell to be forgotten, I am the sworn protector of these lands.

This will be a place of peace again. Because fire will not stop me. Thunder will not stop me. Steel will not stop me. Death will not stop me. Because I am the wolf, I am that who stalks travelers along the woods, I am many, and for this they will fall.

I was. I am, and I will be the wolf.