Steely, he fell a foot down feared his head would break
Shaking, they carried his steely body ground-ward, a weight
The earth carried, this animal worn with age
Stuck in the hurt it went to sleep. And he died.
He died on his horn, no child born,
Two women love torn and barren walk,
Another generation lost by the hunter’s hand.
A rhino died, aged and haggard, grey and battered,
But he once roamed with a herd, word is that
They were a proud race who rode free in their
Vessal-placed world, Sudan walked and catered,
Now sitting in an animal’s gravesite.
At the deathbed of Sudan, the last male northern white rhino [The Spectator]
The last male northern white rhino has died [Science Alert]
E. M. Lyng is a new Irish voice, heard in formats as Vada Magazine, Outlaw Poetry and Spillwords under his other name Eoghan Lyng. He continues to refine his work, working on a collection of poems for his first independent volume. He has written from the perspective from Cork, Prague and Madrid, currently writing in Glasgow.
Image by Heather Paul.