Nature and the Soul, Explored Through Photography

What The Fawn Told Me

“You don’t scare me, Human.  Only a little, but I’m young and lithe, all muscle and sinew and curiosity.  Yes, my pink mouth does occasionally grope for my mother’s milk, but see how aptly I crunch away at summer flowers gone to seed!

“I can see, as I poke my head (consisting mostly of eyes and lashes) out from this shield of thistle, that I’m nearly killing you with delight.  I know my power.

“Don’t let these fading spots mislead you, Human.  I’m not naive. I’ve listened to the gathering herd’s rumblings, the rumors of Warm leaving for a long while, but always returning…how blackberries and ripe persimmons disappear, leaving the stomach empty and the landscape void of its sheltering green walls.  But I’m not afraid.

“One day soon, I’ll command my clumsy, lanky legs.  They’ll have become strong and sure, easily leaping a 6 foot fence from a standing position, 10 if I get a running start.  My large, veined ears will turn 180 degrees and tremble at the howl of the coyote, and my nose will sniff out an acorn  buried beneath inches of snow.  I have superior instincts.  Already I can distinguish Safety from all that it’s not. Did you know my antlers can grow more than 1/2 inch per day?

“By this time next year, I may have come nose to nose with the smoking arms of metal that smell of sulphur.  I may have seen death by then, have smelled the bones of one of my own.  I’m told how the honied light on the lake dims and grays, how the water becomes crunchy and harder to swallow, but I’m prepared.

See here?  I practice my snorts and stomps, learn to interpret shadow and rustles.  Even now, my cloven hooves can trot across fallen twigs without causing a single snap.

“I can tell you fear for me,  Strange Empathic Being, but you needn’t worry.  I’m in training now, and there’s no going back.  If you visit me again when Winter’s white palm has turned over to reveal the brown knuckles of Spring, you’ll find me wiser and more skilled, having practiced Living in the dark.

“I trust the Good Mother’s promise to return the light, the warmth, the abundance when I most need it.  Do you?

“There comes a renewal, Human, a restoring, A Giving Back and then some of all we thought was taken.  It happens whether or not you think you deserve it, and whether you believe it or not, though believing makes the waiting easier.

“If you Humans can entrust me, and those like me, to the care of the Season-Changer, can you not entrust your children, your lover, your friends…

perhaps, even…

...yourself?”

Advertisements

7 responses

  1. Dot Fielder

    Bambi is beautiful!

    Your writing is as beautiful as your photography, dear Syd. A treat for me this morning.

    September 1, 2010 at 11:45 am

    • Thank you, my friend! It makes me smile to know you began your day with me, here in the “light fields” 🙂 Love and Light, – Syd

      September 1, 2010 at 10:50 pm

  2. I agree with Dot…A beautiful way to start or end a day as mine is ending with the peace and beauty of another inspiring write. Thanks Cecelia

    September 2, 2010 at 3:06 am

    • I’m so glad, Cecelia…thanks so much for “sharing a walk with me” to the deer fields 🙂 Maybe one day we can take that walk together LITERALLY, since you live not far from here. I’d like that.

      September 2, 2010 at 3:11 am

  3. Fantastic image and message. Thanks for sharing.

    September 6, 2010 at 4:10 am

    • Thank you for visiting, and for your kind comment 🙂

      September 7, 2010 at 3:40 pm

  4. Very beautiful. I had forgotten the Mother’s Promise until the fawn reminded me of it.

    September 9, 2010 at 4:48 pm

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s