A bear alone, without her cub,
no sight or sound, no love to give –
no sight or sound, her lonesomeness,
some nights she spills her will to live.

A bear alone, (as though we’re one)
in the steepest vale ‘neath tall dark green,
around (us) bowing arrows wait,
around (us), hunters aim unseen.

‘tween graves in fog, and angels in mist,
and only (our) hope breathing life
in faith for sons who dwell with those
with sight and sound, ‘tween day and night.

Let arrow fly and strike its mark,
let blood flow free and breathing cease,
let hunters cheer they felled the (bear),
whose cub romps free, ‘tween man and beast.


15 thoughts on “‘tween

  1. My interpretation of this was allegorical but I may have gone the wrong direction. Either way it flowed so well, with an empathetic draw. The repetition at the end is quite effective.

  2. Hi Henry – You walk a narrow path in this poem between light and dark, gloom and whimsy, manic and depressed, yin and yang. Nice metaphor!

    • Thank you, yes a path between sight and sound, deepest valley and tallest trees, between bow hunters, graves and angels, the bear and her cub, day and night; contrasting the thinest of paths between man and beast and the bear and my main character.

  3. poemsofhateandhope says:

    This has such a great ‘traditional’ feel…and I think form like this has a way of enhancing emotion, particularly melancholy, so very well….made me think about all the lone cubs out theremin a world full of hunters – great piece Henry

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