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Hunter

My heart is still racing from the adrenaline shot three weeks ago.
When a tiger pounced on other prey and in turn ripped my body apart.
My system drove me to fly as far as possible
I could have stayed and fought but the battle was lost long ago.
And so now I pick up my pen in the hope that the ink will help to ease the rage.
I sit in bed listening to the beats and wonder if they will slow enough to let me sleep.
If I had tackled the tiger would things be different now?
Would I have eked out my hunger for flesh that little more or
would my body still be trembling for revenge, even though deep down I know it will do no good.
The cub I knew and loved has become a hunter that will not change it’s stripes.
Out of Africa where do I stand now?
On foreign plains I must make new tracks and combat new terrain.
Steeling myself against the traps that lie ahead I make my first steps and re-enter the jungle.
This time with my gun at the ready I step into the dark.

Background
This one’s a bit of my heart on my sleeve written feeling a bit lonely returning to Barcelona my own jungle away from my homeland of Scotland. I felt the need to become a hunter again but I’m glad to be who I am now with all new self understanding. This poem was written just a few days after getting a part as Phebe in ‘As you like it’ which really helped me develop. Since I returned to Glasgow where I studied the The Art Of Acting which I’d advise everyone to take part in. Acting has had a big hand in helping me express myself over the years. Here’s me with a gun in hand doing a bit of acting with Attune Theatre as Dorothy in a Noir version of Oz up at the Gatsby club a few years back which was oddly enough the last time I had a (fake) gun in my hand.

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