He lies lazily in the mid-afternoon
Sun:
Glorious mane dread locked, wizened eyes
Dulled.
Roaring words that make profanity
Blush

He has been like this for a while
Now:
Too tired to yawn, awake enough to
Know.
The king of the jungle, the pauper of the
World.

Snakes crawl through the dried, tall
Grass:
Inching ever closer to the lion
Limp.
They take little bites, and he thinks it's a
Kiss.

Camouflaged in a diplomatic
Suit,
Fresh bloodstains leave a guilty
Trail.
But the lion mistakes blood for
Honey.

He licks his own wounds, thinking how
Sweet.
But we look at blown-up busses, thinking how
Sour.
And snakes spew venom disguised as
Elixir.

They nibble away at lion and want a little
More.
“I’ll just give them my finger if they leave my
Hand.”
Today he walks around with a wooden stump for an
Arm.

Now his cubs begin to grow thin and
Gray.
He looks for a doctor, but they’ve all
Gone.
He holds his child, wondering how we came to
This.

It is the time for reckoning, does the lion
Arise?
Snakes don’t like war: cowards like to kill in
Peace.
It is time, time for the lion to show his true
Stripes.

The heavy smoke has now been cleared
Away.
He lies victorious in the mid-afternoon
Sun:
Roaring words that make humanity
Smile.

~~

Email the author: Jakeyology@gmail.com,
Or check out his blog: Jakeyology.blogspot.com.