If No One Will Listen

Your antlers, still growing,
Are bowed to the cracked ground;
Alone among the aging leaves,
Gazing somberly into silver ripples.
The world suddenly ashy grey,
Unable to thrust forth
Your majestic chest;
Just tentatively plodding on by.

But I am patient,
Letting you scream-
The fears rattling your bones.
Allowing blame to wash
Over me, the only one
Who listens.

The hunters hide among
The poisoned bushes,
Or else in plain sight,
Mocking your initiative,
Slowly dragging you away
From where you belong-
Unable to see the stretch
Of blue sky shining.

But I am patient,
Letting you rage
With the bull rattling your bones.
Allowing the steam to wash
Over me, the only one
Who listens.

Even the forest turns,
Losing sustenance; your
Survival waning like
The cursed moon.
Inexperience your fatal
Enemy, taunting you
All the way;
Left in the deep, weeping ravine.

But I am patient,
Letting you err
Again, again, rattling your bones.
Allowing exhaustion to wash
Over me, the only one
Who listens.

If no one will listen...
I will be here still,
The flame in your
Sputtering, fading eyes;
A friend to lean on,
The only one
Who listens.