Mountain Gorilla

I hear the men who kill coming in the distance.
They want my baby, but will end my life.
Never have I harmed a human, I fear them.
Yet they bring fire sticks and machetes to
take my child away to the noisy outside world.
“Hush, little one,” I croon to my newborn.
They are near – I can smell their man-stink.
Their monster machines and hot fires eat the
forest a little more each day.
Soon we will be gone into forever.
I don’t want people staring at my baby
through iron bars and laughing at his antics.
Will he remember me?
Will the lull of the forest tattoo his mind, so
that he will stop and listen for the sounds of home?
The bullet is coming and I feel my baby slip
from my arms as darkness overcomes me.