It was 2011 and suddenly there were deer everywhere in my life. I would stumble across stags in various aspects of my life. It wasn’t until my grandmother sent me an antler out of the blue that I began to connect the dots.
I have no idea who the Stag Queen is. She has given me many names for her, epithets: Lady of the Sacred Wood; She of the Silver Hooves; Queen of the Wood; and others. She is silver and white, and she has claimed the solstices as her own.
When I see her, she is androgynous. Antlers crown her brow and her skin is sepia. Her eyes are wide, like a doe’s. I get the feeling I have known her for years, but she has only just begun to show herself to me. She dresses very loosely, her breasts unbound. I wonder if “she” is the right terminology, but the Stag Queen doesn’t mind. She simply is, a liminal being of smoke and shadow and bone and blood.