A Pensive Pachyderm

My toes are hidden from sight and the sun,
As I walk in the lush grass that covers the earth,
A green bed, rain fed and fresh, hides more than my toes,
The greenery is a mere cover, for the devil lying hidden.

He lurks, he waits and unlike his counterpart,
Does not move around in mysterious ways,
But stays still, so still, that we don’t see or smell him,
Despite our noses hanging down to the ground.

And we walk along, jolly good, laughing and merrymaking,
Unaware and unperturbed, about the danger under our feet,
Not that we could do much, if we knew or cared,
Not having created the disease, we do not have the antidote.

Yet, it lurks, waiting to do its job, waiting for its prey,
The parties that planted it, now drink with and to, the health
Of people they intended to feed to the waiting predator,
They have declared peace, yet we have war upon us.

Unseen and unheard of, the mines lie in wait, for us to step,
To dance to their tunes, although with three legs after the first beat,
We hear them when they speak to us, laugh at us
After they punish us decisively for stepping on them.

We see brothers with their legs broken, bleeding to death,
We see our babies walk and play tic-tac-toe with the mines,
Moments before they get blown off their feet,
And lie there, crying out for help, dying in pain.

And yet, we are helpless, we gather round, hang our heads
Less in sorrow and more in shame at our collective failure
In failing to protect our kin. For we are not humans, to kill our own.
And you that do so, can go ahead with us being least bothered.

But once you are done playing your game, and decide to switch
From war room to board room, please do have a bit of sanity.
For decency would be too much to expect from cannibals,
To clean up your mess while you leave to mess up someone else’s life.

The forestlands may have given you cover, to kill and get killed,
But they belong rightfully to us, for we live and let live.
This is our playground even if we don’t make a claim,
Unlike the “Great Games” you play to justify your claims.

Euphemism maybe your strong suit, when you call us the “gentle giants”
Rightfully so, for we are gentle even when we die. We just lie,
Down on the green bed that once hid our toes,
And also hid our foes, lying there in waiting.

Your wars are over, and ours are ours to fight,
So do pack up your circus, and I mean, lock, stock and barrel.
Eat up the meal you so eagerly poisoned,
And don’t leave behind any of your toxic leftovers for us to find.

Let us live in peace, allow us to live, so we may really live
Free of the fear of stepping on “exploding earth”,
And let us eat dance and make merry as is our birth right,
So we may tell stories of our exploits, while we walk on all four legs.

Note : 1.6 million animals in 39 countries die of land mine explosions every year.