Hunting Season

Photo by Miriam Fischer on Pexels.com

It’s that time of life when gentle and innocence fall

the eyes of the deer go dark

while the heart of sporting egos reign.

We all feel broken a bit

and generations suffer generations.

As foot prints in the snow crush the buds beneath

we all stay hungry for peace.

Leaving

I saw it whipped

waving above

nearly alone

holding on.

I saw the cords

life surging on

from ground to stem attached.

Then off balance

in twinkling light

I heard a breath

release…

past all the others hanging still

a twirl and dance, a northern front

leaving ties

the shackles gone

and falling free at last.

Beget

I will remember

this innocence

tattered by life and broken

dead

grace be damned

and fathered still

I will remember

though knowing too late

the father loss pain

of his begetting