Echoes in the Dust

We cannot stop the progress of humanity. But we can take the time to remember its cost - the animals we should call our friends.

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Dust—earth shuffled and ruffled,

my home quivering underneath the weight of lightly treading footsteps

not mine,

not mine

the scent of heavy metal, thick, cloying smoke

something dense in the air,

I don't quite know what it is,

but my heart understands,

My heart knows the pulse of danger, the flash of fear,

Beneath the midday sun, the heat oppressive,

gigantic cracks in the sky,

too jagged, too sharp, too piercing.

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The whisper of tall grass,

a soft sound, then a roar,

a sudden hail of noise that scatters my herd,

shadows moving like spirits among the bramble bushes,

my horn—a heavy load? a weapon?

weighing a ton on my head, my bated breath hot, heavy and fast,

the rhythm of my heartbeat a chaotic dance,

I am unsafe,

I am unsafe,

I am so unsafe

I hear their gravelly voices,

jarring, jabbing through the tranquility,

the ground shuddering with their invasion.

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Memories of the waterhole,

mud-cool and calming,

but now it is

not enough,

not enough

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Tranquility a faint murmur,

I see the glistening of metal between the trees,

feel the jabbing fearin my tenacious hide,

the sound of something searing,and then—

a sharp pain,like a lance in my side,

I can’t make sense of it,

it shouldn’t be like this,

the sky—clouds gathering,but

not for rain,

no, not for rain.

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My sanctuary is a forgone memory,

the grass, the trees, the hum of the wind now silent,

replaced by the sickening crackle of branches

under their heavy feet,

each step a guarantee of more,

more pain,

more loss,

the dust settles,my vision now unclear,

and I am left,

a mere shadow against the dying light,

my horn still heavy,

my heart still beating as the echoes of their footsteps fade,

and I am alone in the dust

of what was once my home.