The Hunt
What We Chase and What We Carry Back
I follow a shadow through the hill side
It leaps when I move forward
waits when I lose my nerve
My body stumbles after it
my hands ache with wanting to hold
Every step feels like a wager
every glance a plea
The world wraps itself around one shape
half seen half believed
a promise stretched across the distance
At times I think it's coming for me
measuring my resolve
As though the capture would undo the chase
as though I were the one being hunted
What hunger pulls me this far
Is it triumph I long for
or the sweetness of loss
the strange fullness of an empty palm
The field finally closes
The shape dissolves into stillness
I walk home with no prize to show
yet everything changed
The chase beats on inside me
Desire holds heavier on me
than any trophy could ever weigh
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
Let your becoming be louder than your fear, and your smallest steps become the road you once thought impossible to walk. An Appalachian poet and cookbook author my book Beautiful and Brutal Things is on Amazon, Link 👇
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