Battle of the Gentle Giant
Bullets in the dust, ending a life so fast, a change in the weather I am praying that you and I might end this together. It’s like wishing for rain as we all stand in a desert.
They look outside of themselves and say, “Why, I’m good, what am I doing wrong?” It’s a wound in their heart! No fresh air, a gap in the window and a poacher is there, finishing a life with one blow…
This thought is a small death… a pre-death rehearsal for the real deal. We must not waist a weekend, if we do love them, because in a few hours a life will end as this Gentle Giant’s dreams roll down the East Coast.
As the poacher keep warm at night with a smile on his face, it’s too late for us to cry at our place, an Ellie is broke into more than one, underneath the African sun. They hardly sleep at night as they have to put up a fight.
Worn out by suffering, they lie on their great backs, tossing grass up to heaven – as a prayer. It is not humility you see on their long final journeys, it’s delaying these cruel actions, because it hurts their heavy bodies to lie down, but they do not have a choice. It’s to misplace trust in old friends by the sound of a poachers voice.
In Africa the leaves may fall, but by the Grace of God may they not rest at all…
Written by: Lucius Fourie