I am the wild hunter  
Who stalks through the aeons  
To strike the heart of the hapless traveler  
And carry it to God. 

I am the hunter, fierce and relentless,  
Who will hunt you down  
And carry you back  
To your beginning. 

Beware my golden bow,  
My strong arm will bend it double  
My clear eye will take aim  
And you will be my bounty. 

Stand bravely, poor tourist,  
When I come upon you.  
My fiery arrow will pierce your breast  
And you will be helpless before me. 

Tenderly, you tremble before me,  
With shaking fingers, you unbutton your shirt  
And bare your breast,  
For you know dimly what is needed. 

Here, my brave soul,  
My eyes soften as I release the flaming arrow.  
The aim is true,  
The necessary blow is struck. 

Ah, sweet traveler, you have given all that you are.  
The widow's mite is the greatest gift.  
My arrow has found its mark  
And sets you afire. 

Come, burn for me, my traveler,  
Stay here at the precipice,  
Risk all and find all,  
Your all is the key to the kingdom. 

I am the wild hunter  
Who tracks the paths of the ages  
Looking for hungry travelers  
To ask everything of them. 

Tremble before me, stand firm in your fear,  
Follow your inner knowing  
And face what is required.  
My arrow will find you. 

I am the wild hunter  
Who knows that the faintest heart  
Can carry the greatest load.  
I bring the necessary blow  
And deliver you to God. 

Come, my simple traveler,  
Continue your journey.  
Be ready, I will find you again,  
And carry you away with me. 

Gillian Savage lives in Sydney, Australia, looking out over one of the world's great waterways. Much of her writing is celebratory and has a spiritual dimension. Her strong sense of connection to her homeland weaves a strong thread through much of her work.  

Married with two teenage daughters, she runs a social research consultancy, writes poetry and stories and maintains several websites, including Tirra Lirra, where her writing can be found.