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Poetry

This entry tied for third place in the "Poetry Section"

poe29: AN ELEPHANT’S LAMENT

by Malcolm Campbell-Gillies

He staggered his way blindly through the trees

Then swayed to a stop as his strength left him and sank slowly to his knees.

He pitched forward, twisted around, then slumped onto his side.

He knew he couldn’t make it up again even if he tried.

Against the bole of a huge old fever tree, he lay his head to rest,

As his big heart pounded and pain filled his chest.

 

Dark storm clouds gathered and hid the setting sun.

He was tired and old and instinct told him his time had finally come.

Great lungs pumping and gasping for air.

His aged mind confused and shrouded in despair.

He was tired and weary, tired beyond belief.

Death when it came could only bring relief.

 

Thunder rumbled and lightening flashed and lit up the evening sky

Now as he lay there his life passed before his eye.

Time had taken its slow and relentless toll

Age had claimed him and now he was eighty-two years old.

He let his mind drift back to the start of time,

Back to the days when he was young and in his prime.

 

The storm drew closer, with the wind gusting and blowing.

Now his mind cast back and his memory flowing.

He was born one evening just as it was getting dark

In the low lying hills of the Kruger National Park

He remembered playing and frolicking and running at his mother’s side

He remembered the love and security and the touch of her hide.

The wind blew harder, and with it came a smattering of rain.

It felt cool and soothing and took away some of his pain.

He remembered the hunter and the roar of his gun.

He remembered her scream of pain, as his mother broke into a staggering run.

She grew thin and tired and to keep up she tried and tried.

But she grew weaker and weaker and then one day, she died.

The thunder rumbled and roared and the rain continued to fall.

His grief was great and often he thought he heard her call.

She gave him love and comfort and from him had been torn.

It was then his hatred of man had been born.

He screamed in pain and grief and pounded the ground

He called and caressed her, but she lay there not making a sound.

 

The storm got steadily worse and the wind started to howl.

He knew while it lasted, he would be safe from predators on the prowl.

Life on the African plains was full of uncertainty and danger,

And even at an early age, death was by no means a stranger.

His life had been spent on the plains, in the forest and in the sun.

He had seen death often, and from it many time had to run.

As the storm gradually grew in strength and violence,

There grew in his mind a calm and peaceful silence.

He recalled how the matriarchs of the herd loved him as their own,

And for years wherever the herd drifted, to him was home.

Slowly he matured and time healed the pain of his loss,

And at puberty life took on a new meaning and gloss.

 

Lightening flashed and the thunder rumbled and roared again,

Bringing with it a steady and heavy downpour of rain.

He remembered looking at the females with a desire in his eye.

He didn’t know others saw this too and is why,

when the Matriarchs noted the rising of sap in his veins,

knew it was time to cast him out of the herd to live on the plains.

 

The rain felt good as it soothed and caressed his wrinkled hide.

He remembered to husband his strength and his time to abide.

He drifted for years until in his twenties and in his prime,

until he knew he was ready and now was the time.

The first two bulls he challenged, beat him with comparative ease,

But the third one he challenged, he fought in the forest and trees.

 

He was a giant amongst giants and grew massive in size.

Four calves and twelve cows he won and were the first of his prize.

He ached and he hurt and his body was filled with pain.

He knew to protect his prize, he would have to fight like this often again.

In the years that followed, he fought many times and won.

He was young and strong and indestructible and no end could ever come.

 

The rain cascaded down in a steady stream,

and even as the thunder roared, his mind continued to drift and dream.

Many times he witnessed the slaying of his sisters and brothers,

but never did he forget the killing of his mother.

A number of men had he killed and torn apart,

for man, a life long hatred lay buried deep in his heart.

 

The years went by and the herd prospered and grew,

they roamed the forests, the hills and plains, and knew

by an inborn instinct, to survive had to avoid man,

who sometimes followed the herds and to kill the bulls was his plan.

He had been attacked and wounded himself many a time,

Because his ivory was huge, mature and prime.

 

The storm grew in intensity and the wind buffeted him as he lay.

He felt nothing, his mind had drifted back to the terrible day

He had been tormented and challenged by a bull that was young and bold.

It was his hardest fight and he lost, because he was sixty years old.

He was battered and brutally hurt, his pride so shattered, he wanted to die,

And a thrust from a tusk destroyed the sight of one eye.

 

He lost the will to live and just drifted from day to day.

His skin hung on him in wrinkles and folds, and his muscles turned to clay.

He found refuge on the banks of a river and under an old thorn tree.

The tree gave him shelter and shielded him on the side he couldn’t see.

It was here, weeks later, when an old cow from the herd found him,

He was wasted and weak and starving and thin.

 

The storm changed direction and the wind steadily dropped.

The anguish of the cow was pitiful, because her love for him had never stopped.

She touched him and whimpered, she caressed him and crooned,

She fussed over him, she nursed him, she fed him and fumed.

She plucked succulent young branches, from the top of the trees,

And fed him tender green shoots and leaves

 

Slowly as time went by his health came back and his strength returned,

By now they were outcasts and both by the herd were spurned.

He recalled with sadness how she had fretted and fussed and brushed away his fears,

And how together they had wandered the plains for twenty odd years.

She formed a habit of protecting him on the side that he was blind,

His survival and comfort was always the main thing on his mind.

 

Now the wind picked up and the rain came down hard again,

And something inside his chest throbbed and filled his body with pain.

He remembered how one day tragedy struck out of a clear blue sky.

The wind blew a branch from a tree that pierced his other eye.

In an instant his life had changed into cold fear and starkness.

Nature had taken away his eyes and turned his world to darkness.

 

The cow became frantic with worry and sorrow.

Now he had only blackness in his life and the bleakness of tomorrow.

She knew she would have to nurse him as she had never nursed before.

This placed a heavy burden on her, she was old now, maybe seventy years or more.

Nothing had they ever wanted and nothing did they ever take.

Now wherever she went he hung onto her tail and followed in her wake.

 

Lightning flashed and thunder filled the night with sound,

The storm was so heavy and close, he could even feel it in the ground.

The old cow’s love grew greater and swelled her motherly heart.

He relied on her entirely and from her couldn’t bear to be apart.

She fed him and mothered him and did not see the strength she lost.

She looked after and nursed him with no thought of the cost.

 

These two ancient elephants wandered the plains for a year or so.

He would hang onto her tail and follow wherever she chose to go.

At noon they would seek the shade and rest from the heat,

then she would pick green grass and tender shoots for him to eat.

Early one evening from a muddy stream they drank their fill,

Then laboriously climbed to the top of a grassy hill.

 

The rain came lashing down and lightning ripped open the sky.

He wondered why he’d been allowed to grow so old and how long would it take to die.

She looked out over the hill, when her legs suddenly folded and she dropped.

She had grown old and weary and her great heart had finally stopped.

She fell forward. Then her body tumbled into a rocky ravine.

There was no mistaking the pain and grief in his anguished scream.

 

He knew in his heart her end had come and she had finally gone,

and he knew without her he himself would not live for long.

Two day and two nights he stood rooted to the spot,

Hoping for her return but knowing in his heart, she could not.

It was in the evening of the second day,

that thirst and hunger sent him stumbling on his way.

 

Thunder roared, lightning flashed and struck the tree directly overhead.

The old tree crashed down and in an instant the master of the plain was dead.

Pain and age and suffering had filled the final years of his past.

Cruel nature now showed mercy and put an end to his pain at last.

In his mind, a picture of the future flashed, just before he died,

He felt the love of the cow and could once again see her walking by his side.

 

In the morning when the sun came up, the storm had passed away.

It was a crisp and clear and sparkling kind of day.

It was still early when the cleaners, the hyenas and the vultures came.

By nightfall the hide was stripped and the flesh taken from the old ones frame.

Nature a master of pain and strife and often cruel and bad.

Life on the African Plains could be happy – and so terrible sad.