The Doe's Lament

Like an ancient pillar,
she stands alone,
eyes darting,
ears twitching,
waiting for his signal.

Field grass surrounds her,
tickling her nose
with the wild strawberry's
sanguine temptation.
Still she waits.

The shot rings out
and her heart swells.
The metal knows its destination,
drawn by the magnetic remnants
of her once steel cold heart.

She dares to hope.

As two lovers under the moon's
approving gaze,
so too they meet.
Pressing...
Molding...

Exploding.

And so he leaves,
swift as he came.
Her blood clings to him,
begging him to stay.
He ignores its call.

And so she stands,
steady as she can,
head held high,
as if by God's naked hand.
She feels the open wound.

But even God has to let go
eventually. And
as He does,
down she falls,
buckling into the
wild strawberry's
open hand.

Like a crumbling ruin,
she lies unknown.
The owl's insignia,
breaking through the
invisible wall of blackness,
bids a distant, echoing
farewell.

Some may stay.
Some may go.
But so it went
that the Bullet
broke the heart
of the Doe.