Love of the Hunt

            Clouds cover the moon but not heavy enough to stop the beams of light from touching the ground. Stars glistening.  Running freely the only time I can be myself.  The recent rainfall makes me footing silent underneath.  I can still hear the rain dripping from leaf to leaf on the trees.  I lay down for I have no wish to hunt at least not yet.  I am oddly at peace here.  I feel a joy that I have never felt at home.  The ground is soft beneath my underbelly.  I fear for nothing as I am the strongest thing here.  Nothing escapes my senses.  I am hidden away; the rain keeps my scent clear from those that I might harm.   I see a fawn and her mother creeping into the clearing, cautious that I or something else may come along.  They stop to graze a few feet in front of me.  They are close enough that I can hear them nipping at the grass, enjoying the moment before something might snatch it from them.

          They are content as am I.  We coexist peacefully, them never knowing that danger lurks so close to them.  I could give them chase and eventually when the moment suited me kill them but I choose not to.  Feeding is not on the forefront of my mind.  Nothing is really.  That is what I like most about now and this place.  It brings me such joy and peace to be here.  I sigh both from loneness and contentedness.  The doe hears my sigh and stiffens.  She knows there is something near, something that she failed to hear approach.  Only I did not approach for I was already here but I cannot tell her that however.  Her gaze rests upon the spot where I lay.  I do not worry for I know she can neither see me because of my cover nor smell me because of the recent rainfall.  Fear fills her eyes, for she cannot sense what is wrong and that worries her more still for she has no way of knowing if the danger is past or still lurking in the shadows.  She signals to the fawn and they bound away.  I watch as the doe, turns to looks back every once in a while to see if the danger is following.  I get up and shake the mud from my underbelly. 

          I walk as I think, still as quiet as ever.  Up in the trees I hear the owls hooting with each other.  There are times I wish I was one of them for they are free to fly wherever they wish their wings to take them but I am stuck on the ground as free as the song bird that sits caged in the middle of the square.  I wish to be like them if only to have another like myself but instead I am alone with nothing but my thoughts and their hoots to keep me company.  I see a rabbit but I do not chase.  I have no hunger but I know that it is coming.  When it comes I will take care of it but for now there is nothing but that which surrounds me.

          My thoughts have led me to the creek.  I immerse my head in the water, wanting nothing more than to drown.  What is this so called life? Surely, it is not this hell I live in.  If this is life then why am I the only one?  No one knows me I have no friends and although I have family they know not my deepest darkest secret.  I splash at my reflection in anger.  I hate this thing that controls me.  I have tried to get rid of it but the sweet release of my bonds alludes me.  And then there are times like back in the meadow that I love this demon that controls me.  The demon always saves me when nothing else will.  Oh how can one be so conflicted?  Maybe one day I will learn to control it rather than let it control me.  Maybe then this demon and I can exist peacefully within each other.  For now I wage war upon myself for sometimes loving this thing that I have been taught to hate and fear.

          I have asked the Lord for guidance, someone like me, someone that understands someone that can show me the way.  I have prayed for forgiveness from whatever evil I may have done that led the Lord to punish me this way.  I have received nothing in return but a heavy burden to bare; knowing I have somehow disgraced Him.  Instead I am alone in this world; I alone must bare my sin.  The cloud pulls away from the moon, giving me a chance it see its light for the first time this night.  I lift my head up and howl, howl like there is no day to come.  Howl for the pain that aches in my heart.  Howl in the hopes another may hear my cry and come to help.  The wood is silent with the end notes of my piercing cry.  I howl one last time ashamed at what I am.  Is there someone out there who knows who I am that hears my cry?  I hang my head defeated; there is no one out there to answer my call.