Caught in the tangled, death of weeds
I hear the shots ring out
It has begun--
between the fading day of sky and hollow
crackling ice beneath my feet
Again, resounding shots above my head
with baying hounds
and threat of voices blazoning the prey
I do as I have always done--
make a run for it….
and always, in the past
I seemed to get away
My soul is sinking, this time
along with boots in ******* mud
-soaked panic-sweat
clambering up a bank in naked peril
numb with cold
Heaving breaths billow
onto frigid air
Stumbling sluggish
Moments cling
Inertia--
grapples for an edge...
With all my body's strength
exhausted longing
I heave myself back...
Fear floods out
like birth
into the lake of waking
A long time there
I lay
paralyzed, dumbfounded
My father used to take us with him trap-shooting in the open fields of Hatfield, Massachusetts. We would huddle in the car and wait for it to end, but this day, I was exploring along the edge of woods before they started, and got caught out....
This is also about sleep-paralysis-- both terrifying!