Elephant's Ghost

This poem is a re-post from last year for the situation is worsening daily. ELEPHANT’S GHOST I am represented as a trinket on a Human's wrist. I was bought from a vendor, Sometime last September, I remember the vendor, he was, Approached by a man in the street, This man had stepped out of the shadows, The vendor to meet. The man from the shadows Met with two other men Their march sounded like military feet. Money was exchanged, someone Pointed to a truck down a lonely street, The poachers knew This deserted, but well known beat, In the truck were the tusks of us all, These despicable people had, Gunned us down, and one by one, Including me we met our fall. Our tusks were hacked out, Some of us not quite dead no doubt! But I haven’t lost hope, It isn’t too late, To stop our bloody, grizzly fate, Because a trinket made from part of me, Means that humans can visibly see, And then ask, for goodness sake, Can we not try and end this heartache, This horrible butchery, With which we can all agree, That, trinkets made from the tusks of An elephant like me, never ever be sold, And become the past, a history, That will then only be told, As a fairy story about wicked men Who killed elephants in scores of ten. Elephant proudly is my name, Please stop this greedy killing game, I chose to have my ghostly say, And look forward to the day, When elephant trinkets no more be made, And for them be paid In a sleazy vendors store, Behind drawn curtains and a greasy floor. I now can rest, And feel blessed, I appeal to all who hear, For I’ve whispered in your ear, Please be my mouth piece, Try and make this madness cease, Let us in unison say, Poachers go away!