A Poem

Anna Hemphill

One of my favorite poets is Edna St. Vincent Millay, and I found a poem recently that speaks to me about the Native American view of life and death and reflects in some way their reverence toward animals, particularly the deer.

"The Buck in the Snow"

White sky, over the hemlocks bowed with snow,
Saw you not at the beginning of the evening the antlered buck
and his doe
Standing in the apple-orchard? I saw them. I saw them
suddenly go,
Tails up, with long leaps lovely and slow,
Over the stone-wall into the wood of hemlocks bowed with snow.

Now lies he here, his wild blood scalding the snow.

How strange a thing is death, bringing to his knees, bringing
to his antlers
The buck in the snow.
How strange a thing, - a mile away by now, it may be,
Under the heavy hemlocks that as the moments pass
Shift their loads a little, letting fall a feather of snow -
Life, looking out attentive from the eyes of the doe.




I love this poem. I love the relationship between the buck and his doe, how momentary life is. Death is powerful, bringing down the gallant buck - I love the image of his wild blood scalding the snow. I can see it steaming up as it melts through to the grass. Moments pass and distance separates, but now we see life only through the eyes of the doe. It moves me to think that she is missing her companion. But she goes on, as does life. This poem reminds me of the Native American perspective of life and death, because they see it in a cycle, just as the doe continue to lives after the buck's death. Death is not something to be feared, just something that happens.