Oh! Ye the King of mischief; the spotted, brown and striped
A shaggy silhouette in the twilight; fierce but yet so clever and sly;
With a wicked cackle bordering an array of silent schemes;
A shadow of menace behind the twinkle in that eye;
You try the patience of the King, twist every thread
Yet His fury, growling and swiping, scares you instead.
You try all means, with that pack mentality of yours,
Surrounding the King, but also retreating at his roars
Trying to overwhelm and outnumber him,
Attacking from all sides, on a whim.
But lo! Nature sees you a jester, trying hard to steal the game
As jesters do go off balance when they stumble on an unseen stone,
His exaggerated movements, a comical dance of desperation, just to steal the fame
Staggering desperately to get back to his feet;
Emptying his lachrymal glands when left alone.
The hyenas surround the King, pulling at his leg
Perhaps in an attempt to make Him plead for mercy and beg,
Playing tricks like pranksters; with the malice to make him pay
But heed the warning, the King is ready to join the fray.
Their jaws may be a weapon but the King’s is mightier
Their teeth may be sharp but the King’s are spikier
Theirs is a clan but the King’s is a pride.
Under his domain, even the strongest abide.
The King’s bravery is unyielding, not a reckless aggression, tho’
Blessed innately with strength and power, He does not need to show
God’s creation of unyielding wisdom to face challenges, can never be statched
Standing firm even though outnumbered, even though outmatched.
Hail to the King! The hyenas retreat, vulnerable, lost, defenseless, exposed
Poor creatures, ugly as they are, grotesque monsters, the uglier the intentions of
their leader, but get disclosed
Self- centered, manipulative, entitled, corrupted, sabotaging, gloating in the
King’s “assumed” failure
The others in the clan get to know that in all this business, he is a true nailer.
“I let you go,” says the King, who has a heart of gold
“Old habits die hard,” fossilized habits are definitely old;
He does not cry out for help
He knows for sure, that in this regard, the hyena is just a whelp.
Thus ends the story, deceitful and fraudulent, of the devious hyena
Played the game but lost in the end, defeated in the fabricated arena
Let this be a lesson for you and me to roll it over generations; a tale for them to recall,
After all, a King is a King, the one to taunt him is the first one to fall.
The poet’s suggestion:
Life could treat you cruelly sometimes and you may suddenly find yourself
unarmored, in the midst of hyenas. But be fearless, stand firm. Hyenas have teeth
to snarl at you, assuming that they would be able to scare you enough to leave
your catch for good. Act like a lion, make your moves with strategy, you have
canines that can go deep inside the very bosom of the heart, ripping it off every
drop of blood. The hyenas are pretty good at “laughing” at you, ignorant of the
fact that they are yet to taste the fury of your paw, that single strike which sends
them stumbling into the wilderness, never to return. The hyenas are led by that
self-centered leader who will soon be left alone when the day dawns upon the
other members of its clan, which removes their blindfold, helping them see
through their “own” eyes.
By : Sharon Hemanju Rai (Neilu)
(Teacher at St. Xavier’s School)
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