The Mountain Hare Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Every night when I was wed
In my mind’s eye, in my wishful head
I’d leave my man in the marriage bed
And dance like a mountain hare

When day was done and the small things said
The dishes dried and the papers read
I would lie in the house like a thing half dead
Till I danced like a mountain hare

When was the second I knew love fled?
When I hung on a hook like a shot deer, bled
And my heart stopped still like a ball of lead
Till I danced like a mountain hare

For the bounds of life had shrunk to a shed
Spidery-dark, with a noose-like thread
Where ill-will glutted by grievance fed
No place for a mountain hare
I would wish each wife who lies in dread
Waiting the creak on the stairs, the tread
Of the mate who shares her daily bread
The joy of the mountain hare

Up where the setting sun burns red
To run like the wind, with the whole world spread
Under your feet, to freedom bred
The flight of the mountain hare