The Panther
A panther stalks through the blackness one night.
The darkness is ebony, his coat is sable
his sharp yellow eyes prove to be the only light.
He moves with stealthy grace
his body flows like the river
at an unhurried pace.
He and the night blend together as one
the night is the father
and he is the son.
Ahead, city lights slash the gloom.
He gazes at them sadly
unwanted guests have invaded his room.
A gun shot.
A dog bark.
The silent shadow retreats.
The men, the hunters,
are soon left behind.
But the dogs still follow,
and into the darkness they wind.
The dogs run witless,
they were bred only to kill.
It is not their fault,
but the men who practice the drill.
They have made a large loop,
the city lights shine in front.
A dog barks in laughter;
the pather, shortly, will trouble no one here after.
So it seems.
The dogs close in
the hunters are drawing near.
Trapped, the panther strikes out.
A dog yelps and blood runs,
a canine limps away in fear.
The hunters come closer
and the panther turns frantic.
The dogs bleed and die
before his killing antics.
The hunters stand and watch the panther demolish their dogs,
they scream in anger and do not pause to realize
they have forced a gentle beast to use his sharpened claws.
When only two dogs are left
the panther raises his golden eyes.
They shine wet with fresh tears;
could it be that a killer cries?
The hunters seem oblivious
they raise their deadly guns,
the panther kills the last two dogs
then he runs.
Behind him he leaves a red pool of blood.
the guts of innocent dogs
lie strewn in scarlet mud.
The hunters swear indifferently
they pack away their guns.
They hike back to their city
to raise more dogs for the "fun."
A panther slides through the blackness one night.
The darkness is ebony, his coat is scarlet.
His gleaming yellow eyes prove to be the only light.
He moves with sad grace,
his body flows like the river
at a grieving pace.
He and the night mold together as one
the night is the father,
and he is the son.
copyright 1996
Alaisha Makalaster