Tell me again how the grassland swayed
as if in worship, waving to sky
whenever the mute-footed giants walked by,
and tell of the mountains on earth they made.
Of how they left footprints around their graves
from pacing with grief as deep as muddy
rivers—and how they bowed to the bloodied
ground. Remind me again of how bravely
the matriarchs fought to shelter the young
who clung to their tails, disbelieving
in man as animal, man deceiving.
Tell how like thunder we smothered their song,
and man was the last face pooled in their eyes,
why we were blind, and deaf to their cries,
and how the earth mourned when the elephant died.
