Brer Wolf is always with me,
always restless, pacing in circles,
never finding the spot to rest that fits him.
If he does, he sleeps with one eye open,
so dominant is his fear, his vigilance, his distrust.
He has been hurt in the past,
or maybe his ancestors have passed the wounds along the bloodline,
he is always on his guard.
We have an understanding.
The same moon howls at us.
No comfortable place awaits us.
We stare at each other for hours, but he gets bored.
I'm sure he thinks I'm stupid,
Just as I think he's cunning.
Truth is between us
and loss
and hunger
and greed
and smarts.
Religion is just awareness.
Brer Wolf is the dog from Karma;
I'm the Buddha loser.