What are these walls and floors
where nothing grows?
What are these fences wrapped around us
keeping us from each other,
one on one,
when my Mama wants
to teach me how to run?
My Mama tells me stories of the savannah:
grasslands, where all my cousins run and play,
tall trees to nibble on,
an open sky...
Why are we not there, too?
I wonder why.
I love my Mama, and I love the sky,
but I need trees and grasses,
freedom I have never seen,
no fences, lots of grass,
and when I dream,
in my wooden stall
at night,
my dreams are green.
An older poem from the point of view of a baby giraffe in a zoo that I was reminded of by my prompt at earthweal: Dreaming In Green
Love "Dreaming in green"... so lovely!
ReplyDeleteOh, they do need those dreams of green to appear. I wish they could be set free.
ReplyDeletea lifetime ago I spent a month on the Tanzanian savannah. thanks for bringing me back there ~
ReplyDeleteThis poem saddens me, Sherry. Poor little giraffe in the zoo....still remembering green.
ReplyDelete