Well, here now, bet you did not expect me back. I took a nap. It is the best way to reset my destructive urges when I am being pursued by suicidal thoughts. Trust me, depression is no ally. However, in my crenelated state, mania also sets about to usher me away, over-taking walls that can never fence me in. Always a battle, forever a war, victory nevermore. Anyway…
Hunted/Hunter
There is a dichotomy
Built into our lives,
A perceived separation
More akin to a lie.
We are every one
A hunted, running
For survival and to
Be claimed a trophy
To ornament some
People’s idea of who
We should become.
Also, each a hunter,
Aching for forever love
Chasing illusions, dreams,
Whatever seems a goal,
Thinking accomplishment,
Wealth, reputation, will
Finally, make us whole.
Reality is our hearts
Are vessels circulating love,
What we wish to attain
Lies within us to share,
Give away, making love
All of the world
And throughout
Every moment of history.
The hunted/hunter is
A celebration of creation
Begun with a word,
To continue for eternity
The Beloved we serve,
The Beloved we are.
Yeah, that just came like a hurricane out of nowhere, the only thing I had was the words, Hunted/Hunter. Oh, dears, that is the first draft. I usually only write first drafts of poems.
As a prompt: Create something about a dichotomy you feel presents itself in life.
I am safe, by the way. I just get agitated. The damnable disease is a horrible thing, but it has its gifts too. I am not sure I would be so wildly creative did I not face the struggle.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Haphazard Creative 