Dotted with grass, a wide open land,
Herds and herds of elephants used to stand.
Botswana was the place, recent was the time,
There was then committed a crime.
In their own safe place, in their own home,
Where their trumpets had echoed,
And their eyes once shone.
These mighty beasts, were hunted day and night,
I promise they tried to be brave; they tried with all their might.
Their pearly white trunks were stolen,
From these mighty beasts which have fallen.
By whom you ask? Well you know the answer don’t you?
To kill someone for greed; animals like these are few.
And now day by day, elephants fall on their own,
They say 280 is the number, the loud trumpets are gone.
The grasslands of Botswana is ruled by silence,
This quiet is a result of the violence.
Environmentalists say, they can find reasons none,
To why elephants are dying one by one.
But after the carnage we did, what did you expect?
Why would anyone live after such disrespect?
And all I wonder is would our children only see,
What these beautiful creatures were on T.V.
And the only elephant they would know,
Would be Dumbo, the flying elephant on the show.
References:
Art by Ayushi Singh
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