Gazing in amazement at the small and frightened doe,
I was overcome with recognition; she was so familiar.
As she timidly scampered by, I felt a loving kinship,
it dawned on me that it was my actions that were similar.
She was finding safety in the denseness of the forrest,
exactly as I sought safety in the boundaries of my home.
Both of us timid about the safety and sequence of our future,
equally we searched for a safe and protected location to roam.
When I observed the alarm and fright in that pretty little face,
I realized that through survival the little doe had learned fear.
How my heart agonized as I struggled to try and comprehend,
the specific reasons the doe would not allow or tolerate me near.
Then I realized the doe was defending and protecting herself,
secure in her habitat, but frightened by anything new or strange.
She may have been previously frightened by uncaring people,
she is rightfully alarmed and suspiscious of any unexpected change.
The doe must have been given reason to be cautious and distrusting.
Someone must have previously inflicted her with alarm or fear.
So she had to learn how to adequately survive in a brutal world.
And her skittishness was a safe way to avoid future mistreatment.
I wanted to reach out and teach the little doe about security and trust.
I wanted so badly for her to take a baby step out of the protective trees.
Could she eventually be taught about a trustworthy outstretched hand?
Would she then be able to triumph over all the new things she sees?
by: Debbie M. Wilson