A wobbly fawn hid under a pine.
He looked quite small and quite frail.
His auburn coat was spotted with white,
Along with a patch on his chin and his tail.
He drifted between sleeping and waking
On a bed of grass gone to weed.
The fawn was alone, waiting quietly,
While his mom went to forage and feed.
Before she left him on his own,
She told him to keep very still.
“Stillness is in a deer’s nature, my son,
And it serves us particularly well.
“By staying as still as a statue
We become one with the world around us,
And we all but disappear from those
Who would harm us if they found us.”
So ‘still as a statue’ he lay there,
Acting brave and fighting a yawn.
He wondered when his mom would return
To cuddle and coddle her fawn.
Until a terrifying thought entered his mind
— One he just couldn’t put behind him.
What if his mother forgot to come back?
Or what if she couldn’t find him?
His heart and mind raced with panic
At stories he began to invent.
He wanted go out and find her,
But wasn’t sure in which direction she went.
So he shivered there, alone … afraid …
Nose running and wide eyes tearing.
Until out in the distance he saw his mom,
Returning back through the clearing.
“Dear one,” she said as he ran to her side
“What’s happened? Why do you cry?”
“I had a thought that maybe you weren’t coming back.”
He answered, with a long, trembling sigh.
“Thoughts can play tricks,” his mom whispered,
And she gently nuzzled his chin.
“To free yourself of unhappy thoughts,
You must be still, both outside, and in.
“Notice each thought that comes to mind,
Bless it and then let it depart.
Breathe in peace with every breath
Until it fills your mind and heart.
“When your mind is very quiet
— For you must be still to hear it —
A still small voice may speak to you
It is a loving, guiding Spirit.
“Close your eyes and listen now.
What’s that voice saying to you?”
“I think it says that I am loved”
“You are, my son. It’s true.
“The still small voice is always there
To help you along your way.”
The fawn started listening with all his heart,
And he does to this very day.
Oh, he isn’t a wobbly fawn any more.
He’s grown to a fine, strapping buck.
The spots on his coat long ago gave way
To antlers and muscle and pluck.
He’s kept a youthful heart and spirit,
Though his childhood has unfurled.
He finds peace in practicing keeping still,
And becoming one with the world.
And when he comes across a frightened fawn,
Troubled by worries or fears,
He shares the advice his mother gave him,
As he brushes away their tears.
“To be free from thoughts that upset you,
Here’s a powerful place to begin:
Still your mind so you can hear
That still small voice within.”
Fabletime 