The Hunt
The hunter watches
impatiently,
Tensely waiting for his
quarry
As crystal dew reflects the
moon
In a clearing bathed in
starlight.
The cool night air breathes
softly
On the expectant figure
withdrawn in shadow,
Waiting.
The empty night laughs
softly,
As the hunter eyes the
clearing
Watching for his prey,
Playing on his feelings
A game that tortures his
heart
Yet the hunter stays,
Hoping.
The hunter feels the breeze
Against his moist skin
Feeling his breath quicken
And his heart pump faster
Nervousness making his
confidence,
The strength that he draws
upon,
Falter.
The night grows older,
As does the hunter.
The moon moves across the
stars.
Shadows grow longer in the
clearing
And the hunter changes position,
Anticipating the arrival of
his purpose,
Shifting.
Quietly, with no warning
The hart takes the clearing.
Young and virile, it shyly
enters
The barely moonlit patch the
hunter nannies
It moves to a berry bush,
To enjoy the fruits of
nature, eating
Gingerly,
The hunter is mesmerized
As the hart, swathed in
moonlight,
Moves closer to the berry
bushes
Circling the clearing
The simple beauty of the
creature
Entrances the hunter watching
Silently.
The hunter hesitates
Unsure of his next move--
The hart grazes unaware of
the grim spectre
Hidden in the darkness of the
vale
Battling within himself,
Choosing.
The hunter nocks an arrow
The bowstring pulling tight
The fletching of the arrow
Brushing his cheek
Yet the hart stays
Content within itself,
Ignorant.
The bow stays taut
As the hunter wages
A personal battle
Struggling with uncertainty
Wishing for his prize,
Willing to let the arrow fly,
Reluctantly.
The innocence of his prey
Plays upon the hunter’s
sensitivities
Pulling his spirit to and fro
In a tug-of-war
Meant to be nonexistent
In the hunter’s world, yet
Insisting.
The slow creep of his doubt,
The loping gait of his guilt
Forces a look at his soul
Forces the realization
Of his true desire,
Where he wants to be and
Exist.
The tension in the bowstring
Seeps away as the hunter
Relinquishes the hunt and
Becomes a lurker in the
shadows
Dropping his bow like a
pretense.
The heart is startled by the
clatter,
Aware.
The hart’s gaze darts from
left to right
Searching for the source of
the noise
That has destroyed the
serenity of the night
The hart’s glance falls upon
the still form
Of the hunter who so
zealously
Sought to frame the hart upon
the wall,
Trophied.
The eyes of the two meet
Gazes locked
The hunter realizes that
The hart was never prey
The hunter never predator,
Each sought the other,
Questing.
The souls meet in union
For the span of a breath
Both stunned by the
recognition
Unwilling to admit what could
be
As the hart tears a gaze,
full of meaning,
Away from the hunter and
bounds off into darkness,
Disappearing.
The hunter stands among the
trees
His beating heart the only
sound
The night air caressing his
back
The stars shine down upon him
And the moon sheds the same
light
Yet they are all different
from before,
Changed.
The hunter gazes at the
moonlit clearing
Yet the tension, the
anticipation is not there
The waiting is over and
nothing has happened
But the hunter notices that
everything is changed
The same air blows a
different way
The same stars and the same
moon shine,
Differently.
The bow and arrow sit quietly
on the ground
Permanent reminders of what
was
And antagonists of what is
The hunter refuses them
Denies their existence
And waits, hoping for the
hart to return,
Patiently.
The hunter stands with open
arms
Exposed to the elements
His soul teetering on the
return of the hart
Yet the clearing stays empty
And the hunter can only cling
to memories
Left within him by the moment
of the hart,
Touched.
This is the hunter’s only
choice
As he stands in the clearing
Waiting for something that
will never return
His resolve disappears in a
cloud of resignation
And the hunter trudges
From the clearing to his
life, defeated,
Alone.