Mercilessly,the poachers….take off there tusks
Leaving the mark of our glory in pain
Hurt and dead
It’s like it was just an investment,
A beseech to the world,
An outcry to them all,
That we may get refuge and life for that is ours
The elephant adorement
The wind blows softly,
The leaves gracefully fall off the trees with the silence,
Silence that is actually too much.
The stumping that used to be there is not there
It went down, down with all that went through
The silence too thick that you always feel an empty vacuum.
The trumpets are long lost…..
Long gone with the shots aimed at them
With their slow painful lost trumpets