by Morton Templeton

Created on: April 05, 2008

Elephant's Plight

In a fractured,
shattered,
speck of time
He lived.

He roamed the plains and savannas,
had been through the great rain forest.
He had survived,
famine,
drought,
and ivory hunters.

He was hunted now by farmers.
A marauder of fields, a thief in his own lands.
The savannas and forest had grown smaller.
He had searched a long time
This season for a mate,
none to be found.

Was he the last?
Was he alone?
Now he returned.

The killing fields.
As a young calf
his herd had all died here.
Man called it culling.
He thought it
murder,
slaughter,
in the killing fields.

He remembered.
Though the herd circled
To protect the young
When the thunder and whiz
of the bullets ended,
forty-five lay dead and dying.
Only he and two others stood.
He cried as he was pulled from
the gray and crimson mangle.
He knew others died so he may live.
Now he returned.

The killing fields.

He lifted his trunk.
Death still gripped the air.
Bones lay bleach white
From years in the sun.
He reached out with his trunk
Caressed the bones.
He knew some.
Other he did not.

He cried for those who had gone before
He cried for those, like himself,
Left behind.

He raised his head.
He had returned to
The killing fields.
He knew. His end was near.

The rifles cocked.
Defiant he swung his head,
fanned his ears, stomped his foot.
He made his last stand.

And as he drew his last breath.
He knew he had succumb to man.

In a fractured,
shattered,
speck of time,
He died.

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