Fawn & Lamb

A fawn is a delicate creature. Spotted, spindly, and seeing the world through huge brown eyes, it is a sweet little fragility.

A lamb is curious and calm, skipping around through green grass happily. White and soft, it appears as pure and innocent, an image of what peace is.

A fawn and a lamb are gentle, quiet, and small. They are loved.

And when something happens to either one, if a leg is broken, blood taints their spots or wool, or they are left motherless and alone in the world, it's a heart-breaking image.

I am a fawn. I am a lamb.

I stumble often. I look at the world around me and see the beauty in the small meadow. It's not until a hunter behind the trees or a wolf hiding in the grass is present that I shatter.

My depression is just that.

It places bullets in my heart, wounds on my hide, and murders my innocence without a second thought.

My depression is what has hardened my heart, accelerated my growth, choked out my trust, and made my steps unsure.

I am a fawn blinking in the headlights, a lamb unaware of the slaughter around me.

Until I am blindsided by depression, butchered by its darkness.

I want to be stronger. I want to be independent. I don't want to be defenseless.

I want to kill it. I want to fight it. I want to be a threat to it for once.

I want to be running at it full speed, not fleeing away in terror

I am a fawn.

I am a lamb.

But even the deer is surefooted on the mountains.

But even the lion bows to the lamb.

I can climb from valleys to mountains, and descend from the heights to the depths. I can take on all in my path with sureness, trust, gentleness, kindness, patience, and love.

I can be brave.

And I want to be.

And I will be.

I will not lay down.

I will not stop.

I will not give up.

I am the fire.

I am the arrow.

I am the gunfire.

I am the wolf's howl.

I am a fawn.

I am a lamb.

I am weak and strong, fearful and fearless, shaky and sure.

I am all. And that is okay.

I am me.

And that is okay.