The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
No one spoke as the trees passed by in a blur, especially twelve-year-old Sade. But, she didn’t deserve words. That day, she had worn the itchy black tights, and the stiff black dress, and she hadn’t uttered a word. The dress felt as if it were trying to crush her ribs, or perhaps that was just the ache resonating from her devastated heart. Her Aunt and Uncle were silent as forest trees on their drive back to their home, Sade’s new home.
She pressed her forehead against the cool car window, observing the tall, silent trees; trees that were so exaggerated in height they seemed to reach the heavens. She wished it were true. That way she could join them. That way it wouldn’t be her fault. Her eyes burned at the thought. Grief crept up her throat like a shivering worm, and sadness trembled through her.
Suddenly, a silver-white blur glided through the trees. It seemed to follow the car at every turn; she had assumed it was just the well of tears in her eyes, distorting her vision. The car slowed as it reached a blaring red light, and she wiped away at her face. The mist rose from the freshly rained on earth; the ground that moments earlier they had been lowered into not too many miles ago, and Sade could have sworn that her heart lay there as well. Fog curled around the creature’s hooves. A white stag stared at her amid the powerful trees; its eyes were endless, and she felt that she could fall into them and hurtle away for an eternity.
“Sadie,” her Aunt began. The girl turned her face to stare at the wisp of a woman but couldn’t hear her words. Sade turned back to the woods, and the creature had vanished. But she felt intuition ripple through her; she needed to find it again. She would find it again.
Continue to White Stag Installation #2