I went running at dusk today, felt the ground disappear beneath my feet; watched the world soften and blur with each sharp intake of breath, each thump of my pounding heart.
And for a moment I was one of the deer people, invisible in the graying twilight, each cell awake, humming , the razor wire awareness that can only come from living with predators; being prey.
And then tonight, preparing the venison to roast. Slicing the carrots, celery. The thump of the knife on the cutting board, garlic, onions; salty tears.
She was a victim of the road, left to die, left to lay like trash, like nothing. Our friend lifted her limp body from the cold ribbon of road, took her home, called Wil for a lesson in skinning, butchering.
He came home proud, with tenderloin, a roast, arms covered in blood up to the elbows.
And now, it’s not clear who is who. Because that deer fed us. Filled our bellies with warm meat, colored our cheeks with goodness, and laughter, and talk.
An ancient trade: She gave her life for ours; she left her family to feed mine.
So then, in a very real way we ARE the deer people.
Flanks heaving, hooves pounding, shapeshifting,
I love you.
I am sorry.
Please forgive me.
Thank you for listening,
Our guest post tonight comes from my dear friend and kindred spirit Sarah H. She asked me to post this footage of “the rally at Franklin Forks” from her “friends up north”, who are fighting the monster that is fracking, the exploitation of the very bedrock we stand on. We are in solidarity with you friends. You are not alone in this fight. Thank you for sharing Sarah.