“The Lake Was Enough”

He didn’t fight. No claw, no cry, Just silence in my hands, a stunned little soul tossed by wheels and fate.

I saw him still, armor dulled by dust, eyes blinking slow like he’d forgotten what safety felt like.

So I lifted him, not with fear, but with a prayer that mercy still mattered on back roads and in back seats.

We drove past fences, past the ache of asphalt, to the lake where water waits without judgment.

I set him down. He paused, then ran, not away, but toward something soft and shimmering.

And I knew: I didn’t need applause. He didn’t need a name. The lake was enough. The grace was enough. The rescue was real.

© Susan Ruth Robertson