The Fawn Lies Low - Dec 28 2021

 

The Fawn Lies Low

Dec 28 2021

The fawn lies low,

hugging the ground, head down.

Her soft brown coat

makes perfect camouflage.

She somehow knows

to be still.

And even her scent

is barely detectable,

licked clean

by a mother's fastidious tongue.

In a life

where there is too little time

and too much to be done

I envy her stillness.

Her precocious skill

at concealment,

innate ability

to remain calm when alone.

But how fragile she seems,

her small defenceless body

long delicate legs.

And how innocent she is

of the odds against survival,

of a cruel world

which will continue to turn

regardless of life and death.

The innocence

we also had as children

and will never recover.

The same innocence our children have

but also not for long;

and although we love to see them grow, and get strong

we know the cost,

that they will become

as cynical, and world weary, as us.

I wonder how long the fawn will lie

in the long brown grass,

awaiting a mother

who never comes back?

And remember the child

too young to be lost,

and how frantic I was

with panic and guilt;

shouting her name

and searching madly

and clinging to hope.

And then imagine how she surely felt;

the fear of being abandoned

we never outgrow.