The Hunter

I was the hunter of the unseen bird
I aimed at the sky
And I waited
Drops of blood
The sign, you see,
That I had hit the target

Sometimes, sometimes
I would get tired after so much
Looking up
And shooting arrows
Into the sun
And what's more,
A stone's throw away,
Fat partridges
Fluttered enticingly

So my hand
Sometimes, sometimes
Would miss the target
And I would hit one or two
Visible birds

Today like this, tomorrow like that
I was on the verge
Of losing my true name
But, you know, I was hungry and
Sometimes, sometimes
Not even I knew anymore
Who I was.
Until one day when
From so much tension
The bow weakened and
My hand grew shaky
And I had to
Give up hunting.
Since then, since then
Stealthily
I became the hunted
Of the unseen bird.

Anca Stanciu