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Caged Life

I stood there, staring before a cage That held a tiger, circuit at restless pace. What a life for the beast of such rage! A fate of such could make other’s heart race. Born to strike terror, stalk prey, spurt with grace, Elegance, diligence all but a day’s play, Now it lay, held captive by barbed wire, Born a tiger, and that was the only mistake. A beast of beauty living life of pity, Waiting for the food to be thrown, A piece of meat, measured and torn, A meal awaited that, neither filled nor left hungry. What would it be to be born free? Roaming in the wild at deliberate ease, A gait that with none could agree, Hunting to fill and not of sense to please. Drinking, soaking, playing in divine water crease, Find a shade, a mate and a family, To live a balanced life with such ease Even a foal agreed to the fair play. Oh! How I pity! A roar that once shook the ground was now a groan, Once a majestic stride, shrunk to pace of agony, Fierce glowing pair of eyes reflecting dull gloom, A sensitive build that now lost sense of night and day, A potent nature’s joy leading pitied caged life. Which is cruel? Hunting for prey or hunted for pride?

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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