A stag bold.
his antlers – emblem of his dominance –
his eyes – ever observant and wide.
Instincts, keen and sharp;
his ears know no sounds as crisp as his home;
His hooves know the feel of hard stone and soft dirt
scraping and clotting underneath them;
his coat a shade of amber.
This Stag is the last of its kind.
This Glorious and Righteous Stag!
Honor and power;
ah, but ignorance and pride.
A piercing shriek that breaks the wind – shatters the silence;
a deep vibration resonating through the trees.
A moments pause and a vision of red,
a second of shock and his hooves stagger,
an instant passes, his antlers grow heavy.
An image, unknown to him;
this creature, this thing, walks among him;
its weapon aimed at This Stag’s beating heart.
But, right before another crackle of gunfire,
this creature –
this man – would know the indomitable resilience of This Stag.
With his antlers, he breaches the threshold;
plunging into this man’s center like water through rapids.
He will never again deny This Stag:
his power, righteousness, dominance.
He will never again deny that the wounded stag
fights the hardest,
and therefore, is the strongest.
© Shane Leigh