Stag

I see it now, a Highland stag
Magnificent!

I felt no love for it,
it also was free of such bonds.
Yet animal to animal
we shared the same shadowed soul.

It moves away,
disappearing behind a ridge,
strange, but now that it is gone,
I miss it as if I loved it.

So it is with those
who have appeared and disappeared
over the strung-out years.
Many went away,
then came back as ghosts -
not dead, but ghosts, nevertheless.

That word ‘love',
maybe I am misinterpreting it,
I know I have been misled often
by its appearance.

There is something much better
than that ill-defined verbalized face,
something worth missing.

Again I recall the stag,
how only after its disappearance,
only then did I love it.

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