Recognizing the Finder

She cowers
Huddled in the rocks of the wasteland
Lost
Curled up, fetal and inert
Lost
Matted hair; cold, cold.
In her dreams she is being sought

The one in whose land she is lost
Terrifies her with impasse
Canyons and hills littered with downed trees and ruined springs
There is no escape from his wings and talons.
Her feet are bleeding
Her skin is exposed

He circles over me in the sky
I can never mark any progress against his hunger
Reeling above me slowly in the sky

In her dreams she flees in slow motion
But he follows confidently
Her dreams are singed with fear
Their life, tinged with paralysis
She wakes up crying, heart thumping

What a cursed place this is!
This is a dark death
Why is it called life?
We move and breathe, but it is so cold.
And we only keep a few steps ahead of the wings and talons

The Terror behind is not fooled
But we are.

I am lost



She hides, immobile among the rocks.
She hears all those who seek her, wing and claw

Now I freeze
Now I diminish like ice in fire
The sheep within bleats plaintively
Woolly coat snaggly with undergrowth
Legs scraped and sore

There is a measured step approaching
Her anguish flies up like a bird
Detached with fear
From some other place she watches, sure the end is close
The talons, sharp and hard

There he is! So close!

But there is no hunger in this one---

He's on foot
He has come back for me from somewhere

She plummets.  She crashes into this reality and shatters.
She was prepared for the malice of the talons to meet her frenzy
But now what?

Who are you?  I cry
My heart is thudding

I recognize him

I am in such plain sight, scouted unerringly from the start.

The candle of her heart flickers
She cannot flee.  She shelters against his eyes
But his eyes!
He pauses, though not to rest.

What have you to do with me?  she cries, her heart contorted as her face

Shaking as he kneels
More conscious yet deep, deep, like a lamb born and still in the caul,

When he touches me I reflex
An aura has sprung up and I sense the vulture cannot see me.
A Spirit covers me, and the vulture cannot penetrate it.

So my fear takes my hand
I face my Finder
Wide
Mute
My heart huge and thudding under my skin
His deep eyes have not left my own

They are eyes full
Every feeling my soul can summon
Is requited or slain in those eyes.