Under A Fig Tree. Poem by Driss Ezzireg

Under a fig tree, up on a hill,
On a bright day, soft and still;
I sat watching a hawk
Hovering high in the sky,
With its strong wings on stand by.
Then it dived like a rocket
To hit its chosen target.
The hare hopped unaware
Of the upcoming danger.
Under a fig tree, up on a hill,
On a bright day, soft and still;
I sat wondering who I could be.
A hare naked like Adam of the story
Or a bird bred in the art of treachery.
A vile predator? I mused. An innocent prey?
Undecided and totally confused,
Humbly the wise man I tuned
When to the village I returned.
'It depends on which side you stood';
He me readily assured.
'If armed with stealthy power,
And secure in your mighty tower,
Your fellowman‘s flesh will devour
Giving no second thought to brotherhood.
But If your demeanour calls for pity;
Showing no signs of nobility,
Nor wealth, nor strength, nor ubiquity,
Then you're on the side of the naked
Unprotected by law; be it sacred'.
This piece of wisdom though I revered,
I am now more certain than ever:
Half prey I am; half predator.