Pronghorn
When death came over me
and took my eyes,
the ground everywhere shook.
Somewhere in the world
the kings were angry –
at me, I already knew.
So son it’s your father,
back from the slopes
with the song I found there in the grasses.
There was a long dark path
and the light sprang a latch.
Then I opened my eyes to the treeline.
It was the month of December
and there you were, asking
if I’d finally see you.
Remember how I said
we should run or be eaten.
I kept running and I take it all back.
Back to the sedge where
we look at the stars, and I say
I’m glad, and you say, I‘m glad.
***
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Photo by Thimindu Goonatillake/Flickr