we say wilderness like it’s a dirty word
as if purity is something to fear
untouched by society and progress
wild, yes, but necessary
complicated, yes, but simple
a dangerous beauty to embrace
and yet we are terrified by:
cold, heat, hunger, weakness, work
the very things that make us
fantastically alive
yet we want it easy
even when it’s poison
we don’t want to admit
our comfort is killing us
but it’s so convenient
we say, eyes glazed over
unsure of where anything originated
even ourselves
I’ll tell you:
we came out of a garden
ripe like a vegetable
covered in earth
and every emotion
ready for sustenance
drinking, eating, toiling, laughing
mourning our losses
getting up with the sun
to start all over again
but for many of us
this is only stories
images, visions, words
a longing and a loathing
fantasies of self-reliance
returning to our roots
only to find they’ve been pulled out
a herb garden on a windowsill
surrounded by plastic and steel
miles from where we came from
unsure of what it means to live anywhere
we say wilderness like it’s a pretty word
hip and nostalgic
forgetting animal instinct
the harsh reality of nature
the bloody struggle of survival
but leave me here awhile
and I’ll stay alive
by grace and my own hands
I’ll make something grow
a wild flower
inside my own wilderness
brookelouvier.com 
That was absolutely beautiful
Thank you. 🙂