a deer swam from new brunswick to prince edward island

a thirteen-kilometre quest across the northumberland strait:

a swim not known to have been completed by any other deer.

a victory worthy of celebration

cut short by a transport truck upon arrival.

i’ve thought about this deer often since reading the news,

wondering why she left home.

maybe she was chased by a predator.

she runs away from a bobcat

and takes a stumble into the water.

engulfed by the current,

she is carried to the other side.

perhaps

one day she notices land across the strait, and

she is seized by curiosity.

she yearns for an explanation

and sees the water as a means to an end.

she takes the risk to experience the unfamiliar.

why she ended up here will never be known.

all i know is that Death is a professional thief

who takes no mercy on his victims.

ignorance blinds me from the truth of mortality.

i expect the arrival of days i’m not promised,

telling myself that i can wait until tomorrow

to finish this poem,

to reach out to an old friend,

to finally adopt my therapist’s advice.

the deer reminds me

that Death acts according to his own terms.

Time pleads with us to hold tightly,

to use it so wisely.

because in a life built on uncertainty,

Death is all that we are promised.

so it can’t wait until tomorrow

because this current day,

this fleeting moment,

could be all that i have.

i must act like the deer did

and resist wading in shallow waters

by submerging myself into life

and surrendering to her tumultuous tides,

saturating every day with experiences

and a reborn lust for living.