Not long ago, you were the mightiest of the mighty.
Your roar declared your kingship.
At sunset you lay high on the veld,
the sun shining amber on your golden coat,
peaceful, surveying your domain,
your eyes serene and proud and unafraid.
Other creatures feared you, made wide berth
around your passage, hid themselves
when you came near.
Then the Great White Hunters came,
the Two-Leggeds, beings who smelled
of blood and death,
more savage and less just
than the lives they stalked.
They decimated your tribe, forced
those of you still living
into “canned hunting compounds”
where, for $35,000 and a piece of their soul,
they could shoot you, take you home
to lay your hide underfoot,
wear your claws on leather thongs,
hang a picture of their mighty conquest
on a wall for all to see how bloodthirsty
they are, grinning like ghouls as they
hold up your heavy head, your lifeless form
to the camera.
They backed you into a corner.
Were you afraid? No, you stared them down
with an expression that looked very much
like disgust, contempt.
One raised his rifle; you did not cower,
but stepped towards him, roaring
one last mighty roar
as the shots rang out,
majestic to the very last moment
of your life.
Lion of my heart, for my species
I apologize.
In all our years of domination and plunder,
we have not grown kind and wise;
have yet to learn how to live
with dignity and compassion
- with justice -
on this earth,
a species whose best hope
is extinction and
rebirth.
This poem is based on the life of a mighty lion, Ingwavuma, who reacted this way when cornered in a canned hunting compound. Some of his descendants, the last of the white lions, are alive today in a lion sanctuary run by the Global White Lion Trust in Africa, begun by Linda Tucker. Her book The Mystery of the White Lions is one of the most fascinating books I have ever read. Ingwavuma carried the gene that birthed his white-skinned descendants. Shaman Credo Mutwa prophesies that when the last white lion is gone from the earth, mankind will vanish too.
This is very powerful, Sherry. So often we forget that we are not the only creatures. And we don't treat other species well much of the time. There is a great forgetting which has done great damage to our world!
ReplyDeleteWhat a terrible price for our mastery. Who would wish sentience on any species? Well, here's to extinction and rebirth.
ReplyDeleteThe lion is such an incredible animal. Your poem nails both the terrible acts of trophy hunters and the deep sorrow so many of us feel over these senseless deaths. Suzanne - Mapping Uncertainty
ReplyDeleteHi Sherry. I just thought I'd pop back here because you may not see my reply to your comment on my blog. First, it sounds awful where you live. How sad to think of such a beautiful place being so damaged. Where I live now there isn't much bush - only a few reserves. It's mostly houses and highways!
ReplyDeleteI wanted to tell you about an aboriginal whale dreaming ceremony I went to (in 2013 from memory). An aboriginal auntie in north west Australia sent a message to aboriginal elders saying the whales were in trouble. People of all races met at various places around the coast of the entire country and in the centre in Alice Springs. The ceremony I went to was on a wild beach where southern right whales come every winter. The aboriginal men did a dance and asked us to join in. (It was hard to get the steps right!) The leader then read the message from the auntie and spoke some words of his own. At one point he drew a line on the sand and said it opened up the song lines and connected the beach in southern Australia to the north west of the country. I went back to that beach many times when I lived in that area and it was always very powerful. Suzanne
How amazing to have taken part in that, Suzanne. I love the part about the songlines. Tofino is a power spot, where ley lines intersect. Thanks so much for sharing this experience. Yes, it is sad to live in one of the most beautiful places in the world and watch it slowly being gobbled up. Especially as we are a biosphere reserve. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteThat dreaming ceremony feels like it happened in the distant past now. Things are so different now. There doesn't seem to be anything like that happening at present. Covid has destroyed a lot of the community spirit that was beginning to evolve in the teen years of the 21stcentury. We could talk for hours about that. The destruction of Torfino is terrible. If you ever want to get into a deeper discussion about lines of power etc. and what's going on right now you can always email me at
Deletesuzanne_593@hotmail.com
we are a petty species, derelict of honor. how I wished I believed in an eternal justice where such criminality was properly bestowed its deserved damnation ~
ReplyDeleteI remember your prompt on white lions, Sherry. I think the prophecy may be right.
ReplyDelete'majestic to the very last moment
of your life.'
How heartbreaking this picture: for sure, the lion is more majestic by far than we.
"grinning like ghouls"--that's a perfect description. Can we sink any lower than killing for sport?
ReplyDeleteThe “sport of killing’ is disgusting. What a warped idea of triumph. Your poem made me cry.
ReplyDeleteSo terribly sad. The Timbavati lions hold a special place in my heart.
ReplyDelete