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The Rabbit’s Cry

Before I heard the rabbit’s cry
the wildness in my youthful blood
drove me out into the nearby fields
to prowl the brush as though I was a wolf
to play a cruel game with death
to prove I was a man

When I heard the rabbit’s cry
I learned of terror and despair
in an instant it stopped my breath
set my hands to shake
and filled me with a certainty of shame
that stripped me bare and broke my heart

Because I heard the rabbit’s cry
it lives in me, deep in my core
and I will hear it all my life
whispering I’m no predator
reminding me I’m prey


3 Responses

  1. The last time I hunted, off Tassajara Road near Dublin CA, we shot jackrabbits for the fun of it. I made my best shot ever but I also heard the rabbit’s cry. No more hunting for me.

  2. Reblogged this on The Lopsided Poet and commented:
    Emerson expressed that it’s interesting that nature provides both for the prey and predator, and roles exchange, nature provision again.

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