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Deer Season

You allowed me to be bound
like a deer caught in a trap.
You clung to Me in your wrestling,
though bloodied.

You dazed me with your headlights,
answering:
You don’t know what you’re asking…
Knowledge was the vehicle
that would have blindsided you.

You drove me to admonish,
though I derided them.
You warned those with
dark hearts and dull ears.

You sprung the traps,
calling the season finished,
though I have failed.
Arise, shake the dust off your feet.
You can’t save
what doesn’t want
to be saved.

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