Welcome to Survivors Across America And beyond

Hello; welcome to Survivors Across America And beyond

SURVIVORS POEMS

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"He Hunts Me" By Maricela Mota

He hunted me

the way a lion

will hunt for buffalo

in the jungle:

striking out at

the weakest of the herd

because they are

the easiest to kill.

O, my brother, what is it

you hunted for

those lonley days

you would use

to penetrate me?

What is it that I,

a stumbly five-year-old kid,

lost from her herd

could give you

that you could not give yourself?

The lion

is far less dangerous

in that what he can destroy

is merely physical-

the husky bones,

the tremendous neck,

the thick eyes,

snap!-

all lost in a sunset.

But you, my brother,

what you broke

was a part of me

that could not be

so easily finished off.

I suffer through

the steel-trap nights,

Knowing, breathing,

remembering

what he did to me.

What is your excuse?

That, perhaps, it was

natural instinct?

Don't be kidding.

I was yours

and you knew it.

You played me dumbly

like a harp.

I was your every vibration,

delighting in the music,

too young to see

anything else.

The devestation you caused

has escaped from my

desperate supression

and it haunts me now.

I can still see

the slow anticipation,

the raw hunger,

the hidden desire

as he eyes me

from the bush.

O, my brother-

may God look down

on you and forgive you,

just as he forgives the lion

for his terrible power.