The Hunters

The Hunters

Once while deep in The Amazon

I watched the hunters dance with raised arms they spun in circles chanting hunting songs deep from their gut They danced to build trust in their abilities this is no time to wallow in doubt they drank from a gourd cup that was passed around filled and refilled with a magical hunting potion The potion’s scientific name belongs in parentheses right behind the Indian name, Chi Chi Doro somewhere on the sketchpad of my colorful past that's been unplugged and left motionless for too long A fire they danced around burned through the night the hunters dance and chant and wave their arms the women watch in anticipation of the feast to come no one seems to mind me being here Dawn lights the way for the hunters carefully they make their way into the jungle poisoned arrows wait in leather sheaths on the backs of the brave men who wear them Spears and blow guns held securely sights have been set and goals reached the hunters return slowly to the village burdened by the weight of the kill Women prepare the feast for the tribe the hunters bathe down in the river I sit and write about what I saw the air is filled with the aroma of fresh meat cooking —Jim Nasium

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