THE WILD

by Caiti Quatmann


In the quiet after rain, time whispers.
It's in the way the mist clings to the mountains--

a memory too heavy to lift.
The trees, old souls keeping vigil;

stoic witnesses, their roots
tangled in centuries.

There is a stillness here,
a pause between one breath

and the next--where even the river seems
to hold its tongue, bearing witness

to the slow dance of the stars.
Beneath the surface, under layers

of earth and history, secrets sleep
in their own rhythm, unhurried

by the tick of human clocks. They speak
in the language of leaves unfurling,

of silent seeds bursting into stubborn life.
Sometimes, in the half-light of dawn,

the world feels like a question left
unanswered. The vastness of the sky,

a blank page, where clouds drift, unscripted,
and the horizon blurs the line between knowing

and wondering. Here, in the endless cycle
of bloom and wither, time doesn't march;

it breathes. It's in the hawk's circling shadow,
the rustle of grass as unseen creatures pass,

and the steady gaze of the mountain,
witnessing years as moments.

And in this expanse, I am a wanderer,
footsteps echoing in the vast cathedral

of the wild, each step overshadowed
by the mysteries that outlast us;

the ones we carry
in our bones,

but never quite grasp.


* * * * *

“The Wild” was previously published in Quatmann’s debut chapbook Yoke (MyrtleHaus 2024)

Caiti Quatmann (she/her) is a disabled poet. She is the author of the poetry chapbook Yoke (MyrtleHaus 2024) and Editor-in-Chief for HNDL Mag. Her poetry and personal essays have been published by Thread LitMag, The Closed Eye Open, and others. Caiti lives in St. Louis, Missouri, and teaches at a local Microschool. Find her on Instagram and Threads @CaitiTalks.