To the hawk who stole the baby rabbit from the nest in my front yard

When the mother rabbit returned to her nest, she screamed.

It was the same scream that came from the body of the tiny offspring I helplessly watched you swoop down upon minutes earlier.

I do not wonder that the two different cries of agony were identical in intensity.

I have to believe that you, too, are a mother.

To not hate you irrationally for an impulse over which you have no more control than breathing, I choose to imagine you feeding your bald, pink, hatchlings.

And, in this kinship, I become as much you as I am the agonized mother rabbit.

For the good of my young, I might just be capable of tearing the flesh of another's precious child, not of my own blood or kind, while pleading, "Forgive me, forgive me. It had to be done".

So, care for your babies now and be at peace.

My baby is safe and fed, so I will weep for the mother whose nest is empty.

What scares me

Am I worth it? How
can I contribute? Do you
regret saying yes?