THE DEATH OF AN ELAND
Those terrified eyes,
Pleading for mercy,
Those liquid eyes,
Dry but yet crying,
Terrified but silent.
That festering leg of hers,
Hanging in the air helplessly,
That painful swollen wound,
Dripping with puss all round,
Where she had sunk in a trap.
Those liquid eyes,
Still pleading for mercy,
As she tries to lift herself up,
Red and bluish ticks,
Resting on her belly and so busy.
The ranger looks at her,
And then asks me what to do,
"It's better to shoot her."
She looks at me pleading,
As if that was not the best thing to do.
She relaxes as her neck lies down softly,
Her liquid eyes still pleading,
Her problem had been solved,
We turned back and walking away,
My liquid eyes feeling remorseful,I walked away.