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The Hunters

March 26, 2019

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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