To the Huntsman

I was once wild, but I am the wind no more.
Too long I have been your quarry;
Not tame, but broken.
You gave pursuit until my lungs burned
And my soul fled.

Cornered, captured, imbittered, entangled,
The point of your arrow buried deep.
You collared me,
pushed your choker upon me.

You smiled
As if you could soothe the wounds of your brutality
With these small treasures,
As if they are not tokens marking your property

But your arrow remains
And the wound will not close.
The wildness you coveted in me
Has died.