Beorn’s Paw

Beorn cut his paw just as we begun the climb down the mountain. 

The blood, immense and rich , gushed out onto every stone he weighted. 

A flesh wound to him that he could care not even a moment for, his eyes swelled more in the anguish of having to be carried back down to our car. 

The trail was bustling today. Characters from every corner of the city ventured out to embrace the long awaited sunshine summer promises to our vampire toned flesh. 

"Poor thing!" "Aw little one!" , "Would you like some help?" "Is there anything we can do?" The climb down took twice as long from the coos and concern strangers expressed when passing my shepherd's hoisted fluffy butt. 

Their kindness is not misplaced, I appreciate it greatly for I too am a bleeding heart for animals, especially their well being.

As the sun rose in the sky my arms started to ache under the wait of my dog, yet it dawned on me how easy it would be to extend those simple gestures of empathy for all in need of it.

We are all vulnerable to the harshness. The one that breaks our skin, our pride, our hearts, but in the end we all bleed the same. The casings for which our souls dwell should not determine our love for one another, nor be the reason that we circumstantially extend our hand to help. Under feathers, fur, scales, or skin we are all here together, let the blood remind you within.