Big Bad Wolf
With the booming voice even thunder envies
Whispers of a frown furrowed in his brow
The wolf sees what you could be and
Eats up your confidence
Spitting out your dreams in “shoulds”
With quick-witted quips
Big Bad Wolf
With footsteps you’ve memorised
The jangle of keys against coins
And the tempo of the tread
He walked fear through your mind for so long
Footprints left in the setting pathways
No longer erased so easily
Big Bad Wolf
Cannot deny his nature
When his attempts to nurture
Present backhanded
Stealing his sting from the cold
Bark and bite weaponised
Against the reared head of the past
Big Bad Wolf
Intimidates, he is a heavy shadow
Full of forceful words, pervasive and demanding
Urgent and desperate
To shield you from mistakes you are yet to make
The wolf feeds you doubt to keep you close
Stale water in an empty vase
Big Bad Wolf
With eyes just like yours
A storm in summer
Capturing the world in your wake
His forecast is made with outdated equipment
Not able to measure your floods
As it once detected his hurricanes
Big Bad Wolf
Is softening his touch
And making better choices
The smoke that clings to him has dissipated
The shadows fade as they feel more sunlight
He is loosening his grip, retracting his claws
Giving wounds a chance to heal
Big Bad Wolf
Looks so small in that bed
Scary in a whole new way
Once ever present, overbearing
Suddenly withering
The way you often have before him
A whole new wolf to fear, it seems
Big Bad Wolf
Becoming more like a dog
Claws clubbed into flat fingernails
Teeth ground down by gnawing troubles
Inescapable insomnia
Attempts to delay the inevitable
But the world passes by regardless
Big Bad Wolf
Hesitates and ruminates
But the extra time spent counting sheep
Has pulled the wool from his eyes
And he has adjusted his view
Funny how the dark can make you see clearer
As you huddle closer to share the way
Big Bad Wolf
Is being memorialised
In truths you never recognised
Until the past felt bigger than the present
And the future was empty of him
You are learning who he is
Like a new language
Big Bad Wolf
Isn’t bad, he never was
Just misguided, and your perception warped
By the typical tenderness of childhood
And you wish you could have told him
You are proud to be like him
Before you could hold all of him in your hands
Jaime Berglin is a queer, neurodivergent poet and aspiring editor, who is fascinated by the impact of time on both process and product of writing. They most enjoy volunteering, seeing live music, sitting by the ocean, and learning about the structures and use of language.
