Unable to Turn Away

I’ve never written

about the yearling running scared

through the trash trees, across

the cracked asphalt by the train yards

and abandoned industrial park, running 

headlong, delicate limbs, plunging, heedless,

with fear and panic and desperation, escaping

because that terrified deer still runs, crashing ahead

deep within me every moment and will–

until I feel I’ve atoned somehow

for what we have done to its world.

                   But is atonement

         possible– or is the only way

retribution?

On the Way to Lunch

I brake

behind the last idling car

in a long sullen line, and try

to relax. Look–

the tall maiden grass

beside the road waves gently,

the silken tassels shimmer

in the early October light.

They know they will die soon. 

You don’t believe they know?

The long seed wands nod

their shiny serene heads. Yes, 

they know, as we know

winter is coming.

Still, we’re alive and must eat.

We’re here for the light, and yes,

there is more, there is

and we live

not knowing.