The day after my Aunt Ro died a doe approached within a few feet as if confused about where she was and what she should be doing. I could neither comfort nor advise her. I let her be not considering until later maybe I had witnessed the transmigration of a soul. But in the end I applied Ockham’s razor—
you rarely see what you believe. A mile further along my morning stroll I was greeted cheerfully by a flock of cedar waxwings I always consider it a blessing to encounter. Such social, amiable beings I hope Aunt Ro will join, so sure are they of who they are—
I am the deer Large shimmering eyes and slender limbs A fawn with spots still on Like the baby’s breath of the meadow in which I lay Mocha fur shining in the morning sunlight Face wet with dew from the chill of night
I am the deer Mangled on the side of the road Intestines on display for the vultures above Legs twisted into a sick jigsaw puzzle Killed by the man who worries about the machine And drives away with apathy unwavering
I am the woman Long, toned legs Striding down a city sidewalk, wind in her hair A statue, a monolith, an icon Like a being carved from polished marble from the raw earth A face of beauty incarnate
I am the woman A dismembered body with DNA foreign to herself Lying in a lake, the soil, a vat of oil The threads of clothing cut too short like Fate’s own hemline Killed by the man and his ego who worries if blood washes out And walks away with apathy unwavering
It is a tragedy as old as time That Mother Nature birthed daughters
A wolf in the bushes. A deer in the clearing. I know you are looking at me because I too am the wolf.
You know I know, because you are me in my knowing. We are so quiet in our hiding, and yet the deer raises its head. You sprint to me now. Here our ever-loving, this sacred tragedy.
O beloved Ever-Creature, Will you chase me into Godliness, or into the end of It? I will chase you more– My precious enemy, again and again.
Divine Ouroboros.
How fragile the leg that snaps, how ****** the neck torn. You slip and I catch you. I fight and we die together. The antlers today, the doe eye tomorrow. Forever this day, no matter the way.
We are the running, the forest, the hooves and fang. The twig that catches my leg, the corner that traps us. God is when I **** you. It is your teeth in my flesh, the tear in the widened eye– my precious thing, and then we do it all again.
A wolf in the bush. A deer in the clearing. You make no sound, but I know where you are. I lift my head and see you. I know you. I know you. I have always known you.
I miss the friend that kept me safe, it kept me warm in my fragile state. I now walk proudly and without hesitation, knowing the friend that became my saviour is thriving surrounded by its fellow nature.
Do you wonder, like me, if fawns miss the warmth of the grass that protected them before their legs could carry their weight?
at what point in human evolution did we earn a benevolent god?
did the phytoplankton get a god? the apes? who is the deer praying to when it finds out in the end, heaven and headlight coalesce— libation hits the tar and we know it’s all we’ll ever leave behind.
maybe the definition of humanity begins at the simple hope of all this work being worth something.
