there is a panther.
it is night.
darting
at each parting
in the wilderness,
she is a
constant calculator
of risk.
she is a predator
so
set in her
are starfuls
of a life on the run.
Can you hear the ancestors?
They are pleading
for her paws to stop running--
acknowledge the bleeding.
someone should tell her
that even
wild things
must rest.