The Hart


Last night I dreamt of the Hart

I brushed against his spirit long ago

But I remember it

The silvery wit, the smoky laugh and the glint of something precious inside

I pondered the fragments that fashioned him antler to hoof

All the tears and the delight

The strong and the weak

The light and the dark

The thousands of days that came before

Time flows on, but I did not forget

I see glimpses of him now and again

A figure in the distance

A tale to be read

The turn of a shoulder

A smile in the shadows

So in the darkness of my dream

When the leashes are off all our hounds

I tracked the stag

I knelt to study a marking

I peered through the emptiness of night

I saw the path twisted and broken

My broadheads and bodkins rattle gently in my saddle quiver

But he is safe

I think that if I were to finally fall down that well

If I came out the other side

If I tracked him through the green of the pine forests

The red canyons of false magic

And across the snows bound by the frosted sea

If I were to find him alone and unafraid

I think that it is only I whose heart would be pierced


-Jessie Henry