The Hunter

Stepping light as air
on a bed of earth,
he is silent movement.
Resisting his eyes’ watery pleas to blink,
he concentrates on his breath.

Don’t –
he inhales,
think –
he exhales.




His clear mind,
aiming now,
at what’s been placed before him.
The prize –
a thought not his;
a glance
at something
completely new.

Can you stuff a glance,
and put it on your wall?

So close now,
he loses breath,
and blinks.
And in a twig-snap of doubt,
it whirls
and sees him,
and in one fleeting moment,
becomes the same thing he’s seen
a million times


Hats’ off to you rainey – this is perhaps the best poem of yours I’ve had the pleasure of reading.

I enjoyed the interplay of elemental images in the first stanza: earth, air, water and breath.

Two of the strongest stanzas --in my admittedly subjective viewpoint-- are quted below:


but you saved the best for last with the imagery in the closing stanza

Congratulation, rainey, on a superb poem.


Thanks lhw. I really appreciate your comments.

You’re very much welcome rainey. I appreciate the caliber --unuintended pun-- of your poetry.


Hmm…haven’t we had a conversation about doubt before rainey? Or was that in some other incarnation?


There you go again angel. Understanding me.

You know I do seem to recall some conversation somewhere about doubt (or maybe it was about faith) in some incarnation or another. Well, you know these ideas never really seem to go away no matter how much one converses about them, or writes poems about them, for that matter. Everything remains a work in progress, I reckon, and all we can do is break free of the circle every once in awhile and become aware.

What did we decide about doubt? You might have called it a gift, if I recall. Does that sound right?

I don’t know if I understand you or if you simply dip into the same pool where I swim from time to time. But you are right, the ideas if true don’t go away, one simply gains a more whole understanding, from time to time.

Gosh rainey, did I say that? I really need to write this stuff down.

Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother

  • Kahlil Gibran

Nice, angel.