Tom Winslow (@TomWinslow)

The Gazelle That Strayed You know which gazelle the lion takes? The one that leaves the herd, Who wanders where the grass grows high And warning cries aren't heard. The herd is strength, the elders know; There's safety in the crowd. A hundred eyes can watch the plain, A hundred hearts beat loud. The lion waits beyond the grass, Patient, still, and wise. He does not charge the multitude— He watches with his eyes. He looks for one who falls behind, Or chooses paths unknown; For distance turns the strong to weak When strength must stand alone. And so we're taught: Stay with the pack. Don't wander. Don't divide. There's comfort in familiar ground And numbers at your side. But there is something else to learn Beneath that endless sky: If no gazelle had left the herd, Who'd know what fields nearby? The safest road is not always The road that leads us far. The ones who leave familiar ground May find another star. For every lion in the grass, There's something farther on— A river never seen before, A meadow touched by dawn. So wisdom isn't simply this: Never leave the pack. Nor is it courage blindly walking Where there's no turning back. Know when the herd protects you. Know when the herd is wrong. Know when standing close together Is what keeps everyone strong. But should the day arrive when truth Calls you beyond the known, Remember courage isn't fearlessness— It's choosing where you've grown. The lion may be waiting. The wilderness is real. But living only where it's safe Can carry its own deal. So watch the grass. Remember those Who walked this earth before. Stay close when closeness gives you strength— But don't let fear close every door. For life was never promised safe, Nor every pathway shown. Sometimes survival means the herd. And sometimes—walking on your own. --Tom Winslow, 2026