for a loaf of bread, whose softness roots me down—
they say that life comes from a place of darkness, where the wind stops howling and the light hides under the leaves. there flowers bloom after drought and the green feeble seedlings sprout up from the cracks of a dead old trunk. moss and lichen crawl and creep on the dry branches of time, long-lost, inching their way into a misty existence. a soft chant hummed by a river nearby, its slow ebbs and flows run around and over lumpy sparkly rocks.
a rustle of leaves after a cool breeze unveils the light's hideout which flinches from the unannounced disturbance of the wild wind. a fawn's head emerges from behind an ancient pine whose shape formed by the alluring embraces of the flirty wind, dancing everlastingly a pas de deux. despite the sullen coming of the mercurial rain, despite centuries of catastrophes, evergreen the pine is, bearing millennia-old sorrow of this earth. here, life blossoms, sneaking in its charming caresses, born the cursed creature of humankind, born sweet nectarines and dreamy peaches.
the fawn running over the green hill, leaping for the verdant pastures and emerald meadows, searching through the woodland for its lost guardian. savior, o savior, when darkness comes rushing in the face of torture and dejection, save the baby deer from being gobbled whole. reveal a beacon amidst the blackened woods or turn on the headlights when the red sun dives, howl at the full moon like a broken car horn. watch the fawn frightened and confused, illuminated and panicked, watch it running and jumping in front of an oncoming car.
in a collision of life and darkness, born the grieving fawn, fading on the cold concrete road, in the face of doomed darkness, there was life.