" Hobbes: How come we play war and not peace ?
Calvin: Too few role models. "
The atomic bombing of Hiroshima exactly sixty-five years ago had shrouded the orb in a cemetery light.
The 'Little Boy' had played a dangerous game.
A game that had trivialized Death...
We are still playing a dangerous game, the big game hunting.
A synonym for mindless killing in the garb of a sport.
My poem 'The Hunter and the Lioness' explores this game where the only means of winning would be not playing it at all...
The rifle’s mass made my fingers fumble
As memories of the past flooded my mind;
And it raced back to the times in the jungle
When my cognition was completely blind.
I could see the smile on the hunter’s countenance
As the bullet pierced the maned forehead,
And as the smoke veiled the rifle’s lens
In a heap lay the grand lioness dead.
Unaware of the unforeseen peril,
She sauntered on the grasslands, rightly her own
For little she knew of the marksman, who to flaunt his skill,
Would depose her from her lawful throne.
But today with my skills and senses dulled
I repent for the hunter that was I myself
When I realize there was place in this world
For both the lioness and the hunter himself.
