Hunted By The Wolf


It senses my fear

knows my weakness.

Stalks me like the cunning

creature it is.

It gives chase

as I run and hide.

I try to shrink back

fading into the shadows

as it prowls the night.

Under the full moon's soft glow

I see it's snarling,

dripping fangs.

In the silence,

I hear it's heavy breathing.

It's glazed eyes

show no mercy,

no sympathy,

no remorse.

Now I can feel

it's hot breath

move over me

as it advances closer.

I cower and shake,

frozen in place.

Sniffing the air

it smells the frightened sweat

seeping from my

every pore.

Stretching it's neck

high towards the moon

it lets out a bloodthirsty howl.

It hunches it's back,

and prepares to pounce.

I am cornered

with no route of escape.

The wolf is the hunter

and I,

the hunted.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

'Lupus' is the Latin word for 'wolf'
We of our Lupus as a wolf.

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Max Myers's picture

Dear Cathy,
I was fortunate to find your website while searching for lupus poems. I'm doing a presentation on lupus for my nursing class. I lost my husband one year ago to cancer following a myriad of diseases-the first of which was lupus.
Your poetry spoke to my heart, and I thank you for sharing it.