Elephant Graveyard


The tip of a blade
Of elephant grass holding on to a dew drop
Like an elephant tear, subtle yet tragic
Can a photographer capture this?

And that tragedy lies in seeing the eye of a poacher
The in-bred apathy or the barrel of a gun
The out-bred fury and when that dew turns to salt
It’s too late – a life has sublimed in to thin air

And soon an elephant carcass will sit on elephant grass
And two dents will be covered by gushed blood
Two intertwined fates – a patch of dead grass and a mammoth carcass
One lying on top of the other

And in this elephant graveyard, winds slant through blades of grass
Singing eulogies at their own kin

And soon long blades of grass will grow on the naked patch
Where the decomposing carcass used to lie

Like scrimshawed headstones
Sculpted of green ivory


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