She rests at the edge of the trees
Two fawns stick close, spotted and wobbly
Ears sticking up just barely
Two small lives she's protecting
Eyeing me warily and rightly so.
Lean bodies built for running
But she won't dare do that now,
Not with a predator in sight,
Lest she trigger a chase.
But oh how she must long to run!
To stretch those legs, to feel the wind
Pushing against her face, the blood
Pumping in her veins, the thrum of
Her heart, pushing til it feels she may explode
Or take off in flight.
Or both.
But to be so grounded, to be so restricted,
Must be painful.
It can only be love.
It can only be the madness and sheer
Divinity of love that keeps her here.
Only love is worth stilling your heels,
Clipping your wings.
And sometimes, even that isn't enough.
-cm, 2017
About the Creator
Christie McNabb
Insta: @christiealison83
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