The Visitation
He carried sorrow in his eyes, and something I still don’t have words for.
It was winter dark, silent. The only sound was a bag of dried bread cubes rustling against my parka as I walked to the edge of grass bordering the woodlands. Dawn’s muted light revealed an endless canopy of gray clouds. My offering to the birds, to nature, was completed.
Ah—there it was: the scent of snow, the sacred hush before the first flakes fall. I lifted my face to the sky with a child’s delight. Alone with only the sound of snow drifting down in quiet grace.
I turned once, slowly, hands raised to the sky. Then I stopped.
My visitor stood among the bare trees lightly dusted with snow, like powdered sugar. I felt no fear.
A Great Stag looked straight into my eyes. He did not move. He did not flick an ear. Not even the persistent cardinal broke his gaze. His antlers appeared sculpted, a winter crown reaching toward winter heights.
As he held my eyes, something in me brightened — a small golden ember stirring after a long silence.
There we stood. It could have been a minute or an hour — we were outside of time.
This was more than a sighting.
There was sorrow in his eyes, a message I didn’t yet know how to read.
I will remember you.
I turned to leave, walked a few steps, then looked back.
He was gone, leaving as silently as he arrived.
There were no tracks in the snow.
Freshly steeped tea was poured into my old squat mug. I stared at the sky, then at the place where the Stag had stood.
You are safe, beloved.
If you stay close to this small woodland, the spear will not find you here.
And when you return, we will resume old conversations. You will remind me of what I forgot to remember.
Each morning, as dawn’s light breaks over the mountain, I look out my window — hoping, knowing this may have been one golden moment when I saw true holiness. Purity. Carrying great sorrow.
A sorrow the Great Stag absorbed from the sadness of our world.
I will remember you.
In quiet,
In reverence,
Awesome story, Lee Ann. Beautiful writing too! 🦌