Manhood

A brawny babe, a frame unfilled,
His eager arm stretched full span,
Wrestled from the wall the gun that willed
He prove himself a Man.

There in the bush, beyond the trail,
Feet fixed on the woodland floor,
Hands held on steel to no avail,
Triggered his touch to the core.

A dash of brown swept thru the green;
The barrel thrust thru the foil;
His thigh turned taut and tense and lean;
His shoulder shrunk with the recoil.

Upon the scene in a single bound
When he stopped. His heart could not flee;
The face of a fawn his passion found,
A moment, imbued with eternity.

Eye to eye, soul to soul,
He felt his fear unknown;
He knew his ache to be in control,
Yet afraid to be so alone.

Such soft fur that he might stroke
To ease the glint in his eyes;
But such freak sounds in the forest’s cloak
To offer no compromise.

He was his sister; he was her brother,
An endless empathy.
He was her father; he was his mother.
A woodland of life was he.

Still, beside one tree the father beheld,
Gun turned from sound to sound,
The fragile fruit of his ‘Manhood’ felled,
A mother, not fallen to the ground.

A thousand miles of trails would call
With branches both left and right;
A brawny babe would soon grow tall,
Each choice with added height.

Yet here today, diverged in wood,
Two deer and maybe more,
He formed a path so straight and good
And set it right down before.

A sacrifice, the gun now willed
This brawny babe’s lifespan;
Before the fawn’s stilled frame unfilled,
He walked away a man.