Through the deepest snow, I somehow carry myself forward.
In a biting cold wind that blows me back.
No other sound to be heard.
I have to find an animal to put in my knapsack.
With boots of old, made from a fallen foe.
The bear that once roared so loudly; roars no more.
At ten foot tall, he shrank my heart,
But the spear struck and he crashed down to the floor.
A cloud of ice burst up from all around his empty life;
This sorry sight is no longer the dreaded claw.
The darkness surrounds me; the burning fire my only companion.
Alone I travel, without rest, until the end of the campaign.
No dreams of peace, no calming presence,
Just hardship and cold ale; death is my only witness.
He follows my trail of footsteps, left behind to fade,
As the ice falls down upon me from all around;
This place is an ice sheet…I cannot let it be my grave.
The snow buries the landscape and erases all the memories.
This fairy tale image; half covered trees and lost wishes,
Of long forgotten beasts and long forgotten times.
All are left behind to rot, without record or witness.
No soul has passed through here in a thousand years.
No humanity to be found within a thousand miles;
As wolves howl in the distance, to spread their fear,
A sound in the air from the wings of an unseen flier.
The flies appear from nowhere to feed upon the animal;
It no longer has the will to have any desire.
No feelings at all, all meat stripped from the bones;
The body found by accident, as I fell through a hole in the snow.
This hidden bear cave, beneath the foot.
My bed for this night only; death is kept back, for once.
He cannot take me tonight; maybe tomorrow he will succeed,
For I am endlessly betwixt and in between,
The shivers that will end me and the rotten luck!
That leaves me to exist, as one of the living.
No future dreams; no hope of finding sanity.
I see ghosts in the shadows; they are haunting me
And as I finally collapse to my knees,
Before the giant that I must pass.
I pray for some guidance through the mountain;
A secret tunnel, perhaps?
Or maybe there will be a way to be carried upon high,
By angel wings; allow me to fly.
But the journey I take is along the hardest of ways
And I either keep on moving forwards on the trail of my prey,
Or I resign to this living and prepare myself to die.
A trapper’s life is to hunt the stalking beast;
It moves in the shadows, so I must too.
If I am to survive…first I must find something to eat.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.