Paul Georgiou
The hunter's moon
The hunter’s moon is high tonight
above the cold, fragmented ground.
Out of the stones and earth and trees
the colours bleed.
Beware the hunter’s footfall
and the shadow of his hound.
Silent are the forests
where the snake and lizard lie,
and the ancient soil where man once slept
is silent too.
No cry of joy or pain is heard
beneath the deep, black sky.
Where the remnants of the cities rise
above neglected graves of State,
the blind eyes of the houses stare
but throw no light
upon the dark arena
where the traveller must wait.
The last child has walked this land,
forest and city are still;
only snake and lizard eyes
shall, in cold blood,
be witness to
the moment of the kill.
The hunter’s moon is high tonight
above the cold, fragmented ground.
Out of the stones and earth and trees
the colours bleed.
Beware the hunter’s footfall
and the shadow of his hound.