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.
© Guy Graybill