Haha hey i decided to give my general interpretation of the poem for now, instead of describing the feelings you were experiencing. Hahah hope it's not too way off :P



The gist of this poem is that it revolves around the hunting of a female dear; a doe, and it accentuates the helplessness and survival instincts aroused when an animal is placed in a situation wherein it knows its life is very much in danger.

There is a great sense of foreboding and anxiety as tension is built up to the moment where the hunter makes the crucial decision to make his move and pull the trigger. This tense innervation is layered upon from the first line of the poem, 'The heart stutters with each drop'. Already, a great sense of fear is created as the doe is shown to be somewhat aware of the fate that lies before her.

The surroundings are described with few words, but with much impact and meaning. The snowflakes that are falling are said to be 'ravenous', to be voracious and famished, explicitly indicating that the doe is not at all oblivious to the presence of the hunter, who she believes to be a highly threatening predator, being dangerously desirous of her life.

The setting is that of a dark, quiet and calm night. As such, the atmosphere gives a delusional and contradicting feeling when compared to the real emotions felt by the doe.

The doe is seen to be weak and defenseless when put up against a human with a gun. The doe too, knows that she is no match against a machine invented by a species intelligent beyond compare.

She brings herself to keep moving, in a courageous attempt to devoid herself of the danger that lies before her, though a part of her seems to form a sense of acceptance toward the despondent idea of death. The word 'thickets' is suggestive of a dense growth of plants, creating the image of impenetrability and thickness. Perhaps this represents the thicket of unreality that had existed and flourished before, standing between her and the facts of life. However, this thicket has now started to wither and die, representing the dying of the protective shield, brought with delusion and absolute isolation from suffering and the experiences of painful realisation. This leads to the doe's increasing exposure to the harshness of hard cold truth as the reality of the situation begins to sink in.

Her natural instinct to fight for her life still remains vividly present though, as she uses her intellect to try to escape from the predator. With 'silent cogitation' and contemplation, she attempts using good ole techniques attained when playing hide-and-seek in order to slip away into the dark depths of the forest. Sadly, she is easily outwitted by her predator and the 'penetrating', piercing and tormenting death awaiting her is further outlined by the 'cadaverous', corpse-like moon.

The hunter has 'anesthetised the nerves to' his soul in preparation to take the life of another living being. He is cutting himself loose of his conscience; the extremely powerful and complex mixture of ethical and moral principles that inhibits one's actions and thoughts. For it would not be possible for him to commit such a heartless act with the glaring knowledge of his actions continuously stabbing at him.

The simplicity of the situation is overshadowed by the 'intricate', complex and entangled thoughts racing through the hunter's mind as the weak shield of emotional numbness is overpowered by the sheer strength of inner conscience, causing the smallest of cracks in it and allowing a tiny stream of thoughts to trickle through the vastness of his mind.

However, the stream is far from powerful enough to resist the physical motive pulsing through the hunter's being. His body is poised and ready to kill; every move no longer aided by the usual train of thought and reason. Then he struck; the doe fleeing for her life, but just a second too late. And the mocking laughter echoing into the night merely confirmed the dismal fate she was destined to.

All too quickly, the dirty work was done. But the pertinacious doe continued struggling for her life, pulling onto the 'invisible string tied to her presence' in a morbid form of a game of tug-of-war.

Once the action was done, the hunter's conscience comes crashing down on him again, much like a gigantic tidal wave; engulfing his mind, soul and body. He watches on with deep regret as the doe breathes her last breath. The pangs of guilt become far too great for him to handle, and he breaks down within; his soul a crumbling mess.

The doe can't hang on any longer; her heart no longer beats. The immensity of his swift action in that single moment weighs down on the hunter and makes him wish that he had never done it. Knowing that he wouldn't even be able to hear the quickened pulse of that frightened doe ever again squashes the life out of his very soul. A part of him had died.



Yup, that's basically what I think the poem means. Man, I definitely need to brush up on my skills. Haha sorry if it aint what you meant at all:/ Oh and i haven't tried writing abt the feelings part yet..