Wolves

I dream a pack of wolves.
The snow is deep.
The wolves, I know, are hungry.

I have a knife and spear
and so can fight,
but have my youngest child
tied to my back.

The wolves surround.

I turn and turn and turn,
pack wet snow down.
I know I cannot run
and so must fight.

I use my knife and spear
to fend wolves off.
They'll wear me down.

Still I shall fight
until my strength runs out.
I am alone
with no one near to help.

I cut the cords
that tie me to my child
too young to walk,
a child I’ll have to kill
if no help comes.