Wild Cats
By Elizabeta
November 16, 1997
Spots, stripes, beautiful markings,
so untamed, wild and beautiful.
The wind runs on four legs,
four legs flying over the
Sun kissed ground,
Wild, free, untamed,
With powerful muscles, she runs,
with speed and strength,
claws and fangs, her weapons.
But can she outrun the
Fashionable killer that persues her?
Big spotted cats with beautiful fur
Tragically fall prey to
the never ending search for vanity.
The animal that was once stalking its
prey
nursing its babies, and taking catnaps in the
Warm sun is now someone's coat.
Not a poor person, mind you,
But a rich middle aged woman
who lives in a giant house that consumes
energy, land and trees
And she calls herself an environmentalist.
Survival of the fittest, but....
How can we survive the guilt that is upon us
for killing these animals?
They never did nothing to us, but yet we
slaughter them just so we can have
Leopard spotted and Tiger striped
Fur coats.
Shouldn't we feel guilty for killing the
Mother of a hungry Leopard kitten?
Or are we so hopeless in our never ending
paths of destruction into the animal world
that we don't care anymore?
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