
Photo © Michael NIchols,/National Geographic Creative
Their rolling growls are nearly gone,
Savanna’s heart is shrunken, drawn.
So few new cubs to greet the dawn
for simba’s line to carry on,
a tragedy, their denouement,
pride upon the rocks.
Impala and the wildebeest
shake-shiver fearing corporate feast,
they know it’s time to feed the beast.
Primeval home is acres leased,
their prodigy are most deceased,
pride upon the rocks.
Insatiable, man hordes the land.
Unbearable, it should be banned.
They lie dry bones in bartered sand.
They lie dry bones, no longer stand,
the lions who were once a band,
pride upon the rocks.
Their tracks constrained, Savanna drained
of ancient cycle life ordained.
Yet nature can itself regain
when distance from mankind’s maintained
and we insist that it’s sustained,
pride upon the rocks.
Let’s gather land to multiply
as far as eyes can scan the sky.
Let’s set aside a full supply.
Of profiteering let’s decry
for we are reeve of low and high,
pride upon the rocks.
—
© Mark Andrew James Terry, 2015