The hunter hunted, the past comes stalking
as three men in the high grasses arise.
Sworn enemies all, my skill they're mocking.
They wounded the bear; now they want the prize.
I load, I aim, I pull, my arrow flies
one enemy down, the others advance
I round the bear and turn toward their eyes
my buck knife out, I fight on in a trance.
My senses heightened, I exult in pain
So crisp each forest leaf and grassy blade.
So fresh the air, and wet each drop of rain.
Three are down and the bear lies in the glade.
A deathly still descends upon these lands.
Ahead, the bear in sudden motion stands.