HUNTED

I.

That kind of grief

never leaves you alone

Once it's begun

it tracks you

Hunts you

like a Black Panther

Stealthily

keenly

Hunts you

It sniffs the air

Its long pink tongue

lolling out of its mouth

like a dogs on a hot summer day

It sniffs the air

and finds you

Finds you, finds you, finds you

by the sweat that is beading

on your forehead

Beads that are always there

because you know

You are being hunted

And you must run (run, run, run, run, run.........)

and ever be hunted

or stop

and be its prey

II.

To be its prey

Is another thing......

To be eaten alive

slowly

torturously

as the Panther delights

in your suffering

feeds off of it

as much as

it feeds off of your flesh

It will take a big, big bite of you

its giant ivory canines

piercing your skin and muscle

until it hits your bone

And when it hits your bone

and has a big chunk

of your flesh

in its mouth

It rips

rips hard

and lightening fast

tearing screams

from your belly

as it tears flesh

from your bones

It throws its head back

and gulps down

that chunk of flesh

like a Toucan

eating a grape

Then it smiles at you

blood dripping from its whiskers, fangs, chin

Your blood

and then it leaves you there

III.

It leaves you there

to wait

to moan in agony

pain throbbing thru

your whole body

like a pulse

'Til you pass out

from the exhaustion of it

After a while

you come to

and realize

You are still alive!

How did you live

thru such a horrible thing?

It makes you wet yourself

feeling the fear

all over again

and you think to yourself

"Now I have truly seen Evil"

You assess your weakened state

can I move?

how weak am I?

how much blood have I lost?

You try, with your muddled mind

to make a plan

of just getting up

But then,

there is a rustle of leaves

and you turn your head

and see the Panther

sitting off to your left

Framed by wild Orchids

and looking as innocent

as a house cat

as it grooms its right front paw

It puts its paw down

and looks at you

A friendly look

like it would like it

if you scratched a little

behind its ears

And you think to yourself

"Was it all a bad dream?

Did I imagine that horror?"

The Panther trots lightly over

sits down and stares at you

with those big wild eyes

It flattens its ears back

and growls low

in its throat

It growls like you are an enemy

like you would attack it

as you lay there

in your helpless, bleeding heap

The great cat works itself

into a frenzy

and attacks

You can't believe it's happening again!

You go into shock

blood, your blood

is gushing everywhere

This time

the Panther has pulled off your left arm

and lays a few feet away from you

gnawing on it

like a dog

After a while

it trots off

into the shrubs

All the muscle-meat is gone

from your arm

that is lying a few feet away from you

your hand still attached

at the wrist

Hyenas come sniffing

making that eerie

laughing-bark

that they make

They grab the bones

of your arm with the hand attached

and run off

fighting over it

as they disappear

into the underbrush

You know the Panther

will return again

This goes on for years