The hunt

The Hunt

The chased across the country.

Stowed away in cars —

travelling red dust…

empty roads.

Big skies,

of long white clouds.

The silence a safety bubble,

soothing balm

of quiet calm.

A respite from the noise —

just the humming of the car.

I showed up

in my child form.

Like you showed up

in yours.

We tried to fix what wasn’t broke,

Both working on our scars.

Intentions never

meant to hurt,

of course the care was there,

but like so many other things,

The almost stood in fear.