The Deer

Buckled into the passengers seat, I saw the sunset cast orange the silhouette of a doe grazing an accidental field in the small space not yet cemented right off the 880 freeway. Near the drainage pipes, at the bottom of the hill from the rent-a-space, there with thousands of cars racing by, she stood with her evening meal. And I know it's because of this last week and especially the last two & a half days of US bombing and imperialist power-flexing but I just couldn't help but feel my insides twist as the tears swelled up and out of my eyes. It was visceral inspiration of that moment, the sheer force of survival in a inhospitable setting where things just aren't suppose to stay alive.