the wild mystery

legs frail and askew
she lay by the road
a lonely carcass,
white-spotted hide
her unseeing eyes
stared skyward—I,
no bigger than she was,
asked, where’s her mommy?
my voice quavered

my dad shook his head
nothing to be done
it’s dead

I pestered my mom
with puzzling queries
why we are here
and where do we go?
each time she shrugged
sent me to play—again
fear clawed
why won’t she say?

sixty years later,
I slipped into the mystery
embraced the enigma
and still,
I’m afraid

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.