A Tragedy

A seldom walked path through a winter wood,

I chose to travel for myself today.

Against the crust of snow stood beads of blood.

I followed the blood trail; why I couldn’t say.

 

With feet slipping over the frozen snow,

I left the path in search of the blood source.

Dread pervaded; there was no way to know,

What would be found at the end of this course.

 

Through a stand of naked birches I went.

The wind denuded them a month ago.

Working them over it would not relent,

‘Til the leaves composted the ground below.

 

The trail led to a clump of balsam firs,

A place that looked as though it kept secrets.

I thought my ear detected something astir,

Then I saw a sight I won’t soon forget.

 

A fragile deer was struggling to survive,

Shot through its side with a wicked arrow.

This fawn with spots just faded was alive.

I was overcome with rage and sorrow.

 

As I watched as frozen as the landscape,

The fawn lifted its little head and wheezed.

I stood helplessly with mouth agape,

At this tragedy amongst the fir trees.

 

Before long, the fawn drew a jagged breath.

Tears from my eyes mingled with its pooled blood.

I bent down and stroked its head at its death,

As the salt tears flowed in an angry flood.

 

Why did this atrocity take place?

Who would shoot such a harmless tiny fawn?

I prayed I’d never look into the face,

Of the culprit who’d committed this wrong.

 

Behind me I heard the sound of crying.

Turning, I saw a small boy standing there.

He’d never witnessed a creature dying,

For the bow he held, he no longer cared.

 

He sniffled, “I did not mean to do it.

I thought he was so much bigger than this.”

The child wept as I went by him to sit,

And soothed his sad tears with a tender kiss.