The Wolf
The Wolf stands proud on a cliff ledge high
Silhouetted against the sunset.
And for miles around, hear his mournful cry
As day turns into night.
The humans, uncaring that they cause such pain. . .
The hunter become the hunted.
And they carry on forever the same
Unaware of his pitiful plight.
His pack's destroyed by human hands;
Gone forevermore.
They just don't seem to understand
What's wrong and what is right.
But still he stands on that cliff ledge high
Silhouetted against the moon now.
Hear his non-understanding sigh
As he moves out of sight.
These humans, he thinks, these humans fear
What they cannot understand.
But there are fewer and fewer Wolves each year.
There's no way we can win this fight.
He hangs his head in sorrow then
Knowing he is doomed.
He says, "If only we had that connection again. . .
Things would have been alright. . ."
"I remember so faintly, once so long ago
When humans and Wolves ran together. . .
But never again; They've become so slow. . .
So clumsy, cruel and trite. . ."
Then he moves down from that cliff ledge high
Leaving only his paw prints there.
And as the first rays of dawn creep into the sky
As darkness turns to light. . .
You can hear a howl so far away
Most can't hear it at all.
It speaks of pain caused by the human way
And echoes through the now-gone night.
~author Cheyne Highwind 1999.
