I'Ve Been Hunted Poem by Patti Masterman

I've been hunted,
Like a partridge at dawn,
Hunted down blind alleys of desperation;
Like I wasn't a man at all
But somebody's dinner,
Or after-hours entertainment;
Shoot-the-can-off-the-fence-post style.

But beware of pastime hunting,
Because without any warning,
Prey can change into predator,
And the game becomes about more than boredom;
More than simmering a pot on a stove
And the fire can change stray bullets into lead anchors,
And the arrow-point can lodge without ever being aimed.

Things wound without conscience,
For that is their nature,
But an act without conscience
Becomes a sonic sucking chest-wound
That can consume an entire world,
Because that is the way of remorselessness:
The conscience of a wildfire.