The voice that use to call me can speak now

The voice that use to call me can speak now,
from a far place out where I could not look,
past what I should and should not want to know,
as if I were in a dream and then I woke.
I can not say if what I hear is near
or if the sounds were meant for me to find.
I am stalked by what there is to fear:
I have left tracks in search of what is mine.
Short of breath, the nerve I use raw and red,
I see more with my eyes closed tight and blurred,
I can smell the meat of the dark thing bled.
I must be close if that is what I heard.
I did not know why what was in the hunt
could turn, charge and change all I thought to want.

Ben Gage