Catching my eye
a little doe lifts her foot in the air
then touches the earth with determination,
another step of the dance,
a ritual proclaiming,
"This is my space, my dining hall, my dance floor."
Gazing with respect, love, and wonder,
a tiny sadness surges through me
as I remember how I, too,
have learned steps to a fearful dance,
casting glances over my shoulder,
not quite at ease in my being,
always yearning for a safer season,
ready to dance back into my forest of protection.
Where are the safe seasons?
Do you know?
---Macrina Wiederkehr
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