Running with the Deer

There has always been
a great doubt in my mind
that I was ever
meant to be domesticated.
I feel out of my time,
soul-sent to run with the deer
in a time when the deer
no longer run free. And I find myself
in the wrong world,
haunted
by memories of long-striding runs
across the glitter and crack
of moonlit ice on the hills,
Gaia's bare bones, looming black above me
against the star-deep sky.
Memories lie deep
in my mind, yet flicker and rise
in unguarded times, a part of me
always feral and free, not to be
chained - and the older I am,
the grayer I get,
the more I remember.