By Amy-Le Owens
Below the roots of an oak, be there a family of six.
A mother and her
babies who she smothers with love and licks.
To keep them warm and hunger
free and safe from imposing danger,
she vows this with her very heart
that death will be her wager.
And so there came a morning, on which
the breeze carried a scent
Of something that made her quiver, for she
knew just what it meant.
It was time to show her devotion, and she looked
as if to say
"Don't worry my darlings, at least you'll be safe. I'll be
seeing you again some day."
She reared her head from the burrow, her
ears tracked the source,
and she listened intently to footsteps, of evil
upon its course.
The moment is now or never and so she buries all
and for the sake and love of her young she leaps out into the
Time seems all but still as she glowers across the divide,
and behold there is man with his weapons, lurking on the other side.
stance is proud and ready, for she knows what must be done.
whips round her tail as they spot her one by one.
She takes a moment
to look back at her home, and inwardly she cries,
sadness and joy for the
life she has bore and for which she would surely die.
The hounds they
charge as a unit - for there masters have taught them so,
than she can count and her hope it simmers low.
Away from the burrow
she races, with all her speed and might,
never stopping for breath until
the oak is far from sight.
She ran until she could no more, her body
and she turns to see death trailing her wake, so close to
what it seeks.
Her eyes now closed she slumps to the ground,
exhaustion engulfs her whole,
and then she yelps as if to say "a mother
from her children you have stole."
I wish that I could tell you, that
this story ended rightly,
that man had a change of heart and his
compassion reigned so brightly.
But man was cruel and heartless, not
caring for this mother's life,
and until he does this world will be
forever in sickness and strife.