The Hunter
written by: Sapto Mitra
The slits of the wildest beasts
tattooed his heart as he marched east.
As the world closed in, his work would cease,
To just exist.
Roars and hums rolled by,
Stealing from nature— but they too would die.
His eyes shone bright — As he caught sight.
A beast had just leapt at him,
His hands, though scarred, stayed firm.
Turns out — the beast was him.
He didn’t flinch.
He’d only hiss taking nature’s kiss.
Snakes coiled his ground,
Tails wrapped with that same sound.
His mouth parted, words unbound —
But there came no sound.
Our hunter was as brave as them,
Matched the forest — shame never came.
The hunter never cried,
As beasts prowled, he’d always hide.
Eyes scanning far and wide,
His throat had never dried.
The hunter forgot how to talk,
He only ran as he forgot how to walk.
- The Hunter - July 6, 2025
- Whispers of Nature Around Me - March 28, 2025
- Betty The Writer - December 27, 2024
