I had been walking with my friends
In the woods beyond our campus
When I became inexplicably lost.
I could not see the path ahead trod by my friends,
Nor could the path behind give any indication it was my origin.
The trees seemed to shift position in the wind,
The roots drawing closer to my person,
As I was left trying to decipher landmarks
With one foot in front of the other
In a sort of trance-like march
Hoping to some divine being that I would be found.
Appearing from the brush,
In a deer’s body,
With branching horns,
Wrapped in creeping ivy and blossom,
The divine being answered.
Its eyes were deep and human,
With an immortal understanding,
And I felt a kindred recollection of the being,
As if I had seen it once before.
“You are not lost,”
It had said, drawing closer as the roots,
“You are found.”
By Sam Sage