Silenced Trumpets

Passing bare bones bleached white by sun,
We step slowly, grieving started.
Mourning life for decoration,
We regret the dear departed.

Existing in fright of poachers
Is not a happy life for us,
Stuck wishing for better summers
Instead of dusty plains and fuss.

We help these flat grasslands sustain
A variety of life forms,
Yet all our tusks do not remain
Attached to faces in death's storms.

The poachers kill both young and old,
Indiscriminately shooting,
Leave bodies lying still and cold
Without any tusk protruding.

Our ivory is coveted;
We are targeted for our teeth.
Our defiled bodies are widespread,
The numbers growing by the week.

We are tortured by painful destiny.
Where is the haven we hopelessly seek?
The crimson future is uncertainty,
Offering no sneak peek to those who pay.

Will we die and rot on the savanna
For uselessly intricate ornaments?
We wonder, "Is this persecution fair?"
As we trudge on in sadness and despair.

Through the minds of humans a strange beast claws,
To conquer all animals craving peace
For bloodstained trophies on blemished white walls.

A young calf, I was free, a misty gauze
Shielding me from the harsh realities
Of the minds of humans where strange beast claws.

Then the desperate poacher comes and calls
With bullets of frantic fear that won't cease
For bloodstained trophies on blemished white walls.

Leaving behind my dying mother's squalls,
We run to find shelter amidst tree leaves.
From the minds of humans where strange beast claws.

We returned once, months later, for a pause,
Her tusks taken, for conversation piece,
For bloodstained trophies on blemished white walls.

We leave now as the threat of death appalls
Living in fear of a life's shortened lease
As through the minds of humans strange beast claws
For bloodstained trophies on blemished white walls.