THE FAWNS oil on panel 18in. x 18in. ±45.7cm. x 45.7cm. ARTIST'S WRITING CLOSER DETAILS
THE FAWNS There's an old and endless thirst for divinity, that feeds ever at the heart It breaches, it stretches, it spans across mazed fields To hope, to love, through floods and rightfully for need Yet sometimes, it strays, it blisters and it breeds Sprouting out as weak limbs—unknightly leaved of greed Toward selfhood, toward lust, toward a darker famished sleeve Alas, we follow Toward sorrow And by this strain we grieve O waste of innocence, lost, wounded by these leaves, the wicked and the craven By a patterned pawn of hatred, whose malice craves a name Plagued by strangled anger By a tillage of aggression And a misled scheme to heaven Sinless coated fawn, child in this haze—you've been hurt, pained Sharply scathed in vain Punctured by this plight—this fracture, this flaw, this sliver with a plea Splintered from the failings of this tender tree Don't die, my red deer, this madland's mostly good Always with her scars, yet full of brightened stars Lightened by your tear, my red deer, you sew the rift as one You bring us back together, all-embracing as the sun Sinless coated fawn—a child we call ours Your wounds are merging stars They show us our fine ways, and where we've always stood Don't die My red deer This madland's mostly good