A Drunk Indian

A drunk Indian

Floated as does boat
Broken by the waves
Some news, strange
“Mother is dangerous.”

And photos on first page
Killed baby elephant.

I changed me, recycled, to my past
One before, Rumi says:
“First a thing, then green, animal…”
Luckily I was an elephant.
I spoke with mother.
We spoke in same tongue.

“Don’t recall” she told me
“Maybe sex overtake
Maybe rape
I became pregnant.
No doctor, hospital
No clue or way out
In a cage for lifetime
I have been a slave
Why should he? ”

“In lab he, will be cut
I did best, as I could
I gave him freedom.
No more laughs, no diet
All imposed by mad-man.”

She was like a flame
Of wood, bush, also hey
Different in colours
In the wind of desert
No limit in darkness
And sky brutal
Moon busy, with stars.
Or maybe in Andes, Prairie
A drunk Indian.

Thursday, May 28, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: care
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS OF THE POEM