I just read the poem "Travelling Through the Dark" by William Stafford, and I think my heart has officially broken in two.
I'll copy the poem here to give you a taste of it, but I want to add a disclaimer that this might break your hearts, if you love animals and baby's as much as I do.
Travelling Through the Dark
Travelling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.
By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.
My fingers touching her side brought me the reason-
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.
The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.
I thought hard for us all- my only swerving-
then pushed her over the edge into the river.
I think my heart is officially broken!! Is that sad, or what?
I'm sure that the fawn would have died anyways, but I can't help but think there would have been some way to save the baby.
Yes, I am aware that it's just a poem, and not necessarily true, but I can't help but put myself into a position like that and think that the poem should have been different.
I dunno, maybe I'm just crazy.
"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience. "
Ralph Waldo Emerson