Hunter

HUNTER

I grew up hunting with my father
In a little mountain town not far from here
When I turned six he gave me my first rifle
I was eight years old when I killed my first deer

Dad said I had an itchy trigger finger
We needed meat and I had steady aim
But if I could not kill an animal cleanly
I’d give it up and never hunt again




Somehow I barely made it through high school
I dreamed about escaping every day
I couldn’t see me working at the prison
I joined the Army just to get away

The mountains of Iraq felt like my hometown
The valleys and the ridges looked the same
I knew that I was born to be a soldier
I figured it was just like hunting game

I saw him in my scope across the valley
I squeezed the trigger slowly and he fell
But in that moment I felt something breaking
And my immortal soul went straight to hell

The Bible says it is a sin to murder
I figured that in war it was all right
But always in my dreams I see him falling
His blood soaks my pillow every night

The doctors say that I’m just post-traumatic
They tell me that with time the mist will clear
But they don’t understand the things that happen
When you can’t tell a person from a deer

Some nights I dream I’m hunting with my father
Some nights I dream they’ve sent me back to war
Dad said I had an itchy trigger finger
So I cut it off and I will hunt no more