WOUNDED (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