The Gift Denied

More seasons have passed than
Trees have fallen in the
Forest, since I was a man
Free to wander its paths.
Then I tasted the fresh
Tang of young onions,
Beneath a woven mesh
Of branches curved into
A sun-chinked roof of green.
Between human teeth I crunched
Icicles, clear and clean
As winter air. Summer
Brought the sour-sweet,
Seeded berries. I remember
Smoky crisp deer meat
Roasted over snapping flames.
I dream of the comforting
Thump of drums in the lodge,
And listen for the piercing
Bright bird notes of the flute.

These dreams disturb my red nights,
Rank and greasy with sick flesh.
Tearing poisonous bites,
Helpless as a beast,
I slowly reduce raw,
Strong, living bone to
Gritty meal with weary jaws,
Knowing that the end of
Horror brings the purge.
Dizzy nausea almost
Blinds me to what emerges.

The panther vomits fur,
Enduring bitter weed
To cleanse her belly. Owl
Gobbles when he feeds,
And expels the bones
Of his prey, delicate
In nests of hair. They gain
Strength and thrive, while my gut
Is pulled inside out,
Uselessly. Though driven
To unravel my entrails
Around a tree, even
Then, disease would remain.

My prey hunts me down. My
Predators scream in fear
Of their victim. They lie
Clutching beads, pictures, or
A cross with no wheel to
Unite joy and sorrow.
They call upon gods who
Don't answer. Worthless in
The face of death, their
Totems can't defeat it,
Or strengthen their fearful
Spirits to meet it.
They'll do anything,
To beat it back, to save
Themselves one moment more,
From the peace my heart craves.

Author: Branwell

Author's Notes: This was written in answer to a challenge
to write a rhymed poem based on the episode "The Gift:"
I imagined the unfortunate soul-eater as a human being,
perhaps a shaman, trapped by his own gift.

Rating: PG-13 for disturbing images.
Category: Poem
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