Tiger
By Allison

Pacing back and fourth
Over the concrete floor
With it’s claws tapping.
Only an animal of skin and bones
With a matted, filthy coat.
Someone comes forward
Pressing their faces to the glass.
People look in
No privacy
No freedom.
Now it’s a meal
Scraps from the floor.
Then silence as the jail closes.
The tiger can only pace
Then she lies on the cold floor
No room to do anything
Can only pace and lay.
Dark eyes
Never saw real light in a year
Only what she was given, little.
The tiger’s mouth is dry
But nothing lies in her bowl.
Hate boils up
Hate for humans
They did this to her.
Then she settles down and thinks
Of better times and a better life.
 
Back to when she lived in the jungle
So far away from jail.
Sun lit the days
Moon lit the night.
Streams trickled down the jungle
Passing under the canopy of leaves.
The tiger would eat whenever she wanted
And sleep whenever she slept
No faces pressed along the glass
Barely a soul in sight.
The soil was always soft
Unlike what the humans used.
She had been happy
Under the canopy of green
But then times began to change
And things began to die.

At first it wasn’t much
The odd human here or there
Then the plants began to be trampled
Dead in their roots.
Next came the slashing
Horrible blades of the reaper.
The fires came next
Smoke billowed in the air.
The tiger tried to escape
But to no avail
Her forest shrunk
Food left
She starved.
Guns fired in the air
Saws and fires went off.
Then one day they came
Throwing ropes and chains onto her
No strength to fight back
She fell
They prevailed
They won
They claimed her and her forest.
Now they had her locked away
For everyone to see.
 
A gust of wind awoke her
But the ground was somewhat soft
She arose to find forest
A jungle
Acres of land
No humans
No harm
No war.
The tiger stared in disbelief
For surely she was dreaming
But the vision was a reality
She entered the forest
Living happily.
 
In another dimension
A tiger lay on the solid floor
Humans walked by in mal-humor
A man enters
Cigarette dangling out of his mouth
"Up!" commands he
Kicking the tiger in the ribs
"People want movement"

The tiger did not move.
He kicks her again
Feels her pulse
Grunts and again kicks her
Takes his cigarette
Out of his mouth
Taps the aches on the body
Kicks the body again
Then leaves
Throwing his bud onto the fur.
Slams the door shut
Anger in his mind
But the tiger didn’t care
She was in another land.
At peace.
Alive.
Dead.