On some far mountain, now I know
what it means to be alone, the white tiger
suckles her cub in a roaring blizzard.
Her mind is silent, absorbed by snow.
Her eyes are sharp like two steel swords.
Inside her chest, a heart keen in the way
of a mother.
Further up the slope, searching
for sprouts, a white-tailed deer
who cannot know his life is over.
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