Mama

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