\Image by Francesco De Tommaso on Unsplash, used with permission
In the shadows of the tundra, the lion hunts tonight.
What unsuspecting detour will still a gazelle’s flight?
Nightfall cancels the good fortune of the graceful beast.
The ballet of his progress has mercilessly ceased.
So nature feasts on nature in our world’s cruel plan—
animal on animal and man on weaker man.
Much as we hope that we’ve evolved, we cycle back again,
supplementing power by feeding on the pain
of people that we use as stepping stones to power.
What man can stand above unless other humans cower?
The nature of wild animals is that they give short shrift.
The kill is sane and merciful. The slaughter sure and swift.
Mankind is the species where cruelty was born.
Their hunts don’t end in darkness, but leak over to the morn.
Men amassing billions while other billions starve—
how big is the kingdom that they hope to carve?
A lion with its appetite sated ends the slaughter.
Not so the questing magnate or his greedy daughter.
Send back the starving children, parentless and weak.
They will not have the mercy or safety that they seek.
Recycle them to other lions on the hunt.
In darkness or in light of day, their stalkers never punt.
Oh how the jaded mighty exercise their powers
by stacking bodies of the powerless to build their lofty towers.