THE DOE

The thirst of the soul is sweeter than the wine

of material things, and the fear of the spirit is

dearer than the security of the body.

—Kahlil Gibran 

Why so afraid to bow down,

My dear one, my daughter?

Doesn’t the doe go daily down to her spring?

Doesn’t the spring, brimming with water,

Flow like a river, down to the sea?

Why so afraid to look up,

My dear one, my daughter?

Doesn’t the sea always look at the sky?

Doesn’t the cloud, cherishing water,

Rain in cycles back to the sea?

You are thirsty for spirit,

My dear little doe.

You’re alone, thirsty, and yet you resemble

A cool oasis brimming with water

Where birds gather and sing.

I am trusting. You know it,

My dear little doe.

Be your journey as trustful, for I’ll be going;

Like rivers receding, their waters

Flowing back to their spring.

Don’t be afraid to look up,

My daughter, my dear one.

Haven’t my hands dried all of your tears?

You’ll be my doe, my daughter,

No matter where I may go.

Don’t be afraid to bow down,

My daughter, my dear one.

Heaven still spans all over your tears.

Won’t you come down to the water

Now and drink, dear little doe?

Published in This Enduring Gift, 2010