Once Upon A Tiger

Never again will those silent pads trample upon the dew, 

Never again will the deer flee from those hidden stripes askew.

Never again will that moaning roar sound over the deadened breeze, 

Never again will that graceful form slide through the darkened trees.

Cut and sewn and hacked and chopped and torn from fang to claw,

A pitiable heap, in eternal sleep - once a tiger, before me I saw.

A tiger is poached, just one of many, and the Earth will pay its price,

In famine, flood, disease, and death - in human sacrifice.

A treasure trove? A medicine chest? An ancient misconception?

Or am I to blame for my part in the game of apathy and corruption?

My conscience is pricked, but my answers come quick - "Who, me?", "What, us?", "Not I!"

How apathy kills! How corruption stills! How the tiger, for us, has to die!