SHE-WOLF by Rosy Armitage
It’s not as if I haven’t many cubs
That squeal in competition for my duds,
You bring me more, to feed and keep inside
Our cave, where formerly just we did hide.
These two, abandoned, mewling, on the hills
Have neither fur nor feathers, beaks nor bills,
Just skin, and nipples, only two apiece.
They burrow, for the warmness, in my fleece.
I hated them when first they did appear,
But now they smell like us, I hold them dear.
When distant shouts were captured by our ears,
And more on two paws came at us with spears,
I certain was my children would be slain
And all my blood and milk be spilled in vain.
These two, arising on their long back legs
(So good for reaching honey, nuts and eggs),
Did jump up, barking, making some new sound
At once they knew, their answer had been found
With these bald bears, at last they saw their home,
Left us to build, but not in one day, Rome.
Asleep, I often dream them here with me
I will forever feel them family
I miss them so, and through the woods I slink
To press my snout deep in a teeny chink
Of rocks and stones, laid one upon the other,
Just like each cub, sleep-leaning on his brother.
I never see them, never catch a whiff
Of us or me, it almost seems as if
It never really happened, yet here stands
A mighty empire raised up by their hands.