WHO SPEAKS FOR THE WARTHOG?
We watch the
lioness a-stalking;
The warthogs
oft provide their feasts.
But, lions
aren’t the kings of wildness.
We humans are the royal beasts.
The warthog,
soon consumed by terror,
Goes racing,
vainly, o’er the veld.
Full soon,
the lioness is clamping.
The
warthog’s now securely held!
The lioness
sinks claws and canines.
The
warthog’s desp’rate cry is shrill;
A plea for
aid that goes unanswered.
One final
squeal; then all is still.
Just as
opinion backs the feline,
It favors
human adults, too.
The fetus is
without a champion.
The forceps
grips, and rips, on cue.
With our own
bestial rules applied;
We will not
stir for feticide.
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© Guy
Graybill
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