The Bear And I

The forest silent and low,
a breath of stillness,  
pine needles soft beneath trembling steps.
I am here,
a visitor in ancient territory,
the air carries weight,
where shadows are alive.
The BEAR moves like inevitability-
muscle and hunger wrapped in fur.
Its eyes do not question,
claws do not hesitate.
My body,
an offering it never asked for,
splits to rhythm of teeth that know their work.
I become less,
layer by layer,
bone and marrow.
A slow undoing.
The earth takes my blood without even ceremony.
The trees silent, still,
neither witness nor mourners.
And when all goes quiet again,
only the BEAR remains,
whole and heavy with me,
a piece of the wild widely understood.