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Chasing the Hunter
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Prose & Poem Oh Mother Earth I’m running
Where have you gone?
Where is the green of our land?
Darkness has overtaken it.
Where is the brotherhood
That Unupit has stolen?
Where did he hide it
Or maybe it’s just broken?
It started as it always starts, by the burning of desire, the insatiable hunger of some, and blind calmness of some others. “Not everyone is bad, not everyone of them is bad”, I remind myself again and again. It has started to feel like I’m just lying, but "why lying?" you may ask. I can only think it’s because I don’t want to accept the mistake I have done... or I have created, if one wants to be precise. Anyways, this world yearns for what it fears.
Run breathe run breathe
Never stop or you’ll be caught
What a great irony this is
To become that which you were not
Oh Mother Earth
I cannot stop running
My paws feel like burning
But stopping smells like death.
I have heard the cries of my babies, the screams of my creatures death. The world I’ve created has turned into ashes, and it’s too late to try to save them. It seems like a war for survival has started. All my beings compete in strength and intelligence between each other. And there are no winners just one who seems to be fast food and another who keeps chasing his unattainable yearning.
But was it only me?
I believe there’s more
It was the fire that grew
Within all our souls.
A different kind of fire
That cannot be extinguished
Not even if one is tired.
A fire that doesn’t give light
And only destroys life.
It was a matter of time for this to happen. The cycle most continue and repeat; that’s how I created life. It hurts, nonetheless, to see my dear ones in pain. The time is everything’s doom; nothing can be eternal. Some of them rushed and tried to take that which they thought theirs. Others ran filled with fear and terror, cowardly forgetting their origins, their values. The worst part is that they forgot about who made them, who gave them life. They forgot me… at least most of them...
Mother, here I lay
The last of all beings
All I did was obeying my desire.
Will you remember me
As what I used to be?
The coyote before Unupit,
Or will you remember me
As the life’s destroyer?
Words always spill on my glass, and the eight circle is ready for you, dividing you as you divided Earth. Grace be upon you and your kind, as you indeed will be remembered as the one who brought discord; as the hunter, the chaser.
Written with Clemente Miguel Yáñez Contreras
