There used to be more of us. Someone decided
That we were too big and we must be divided.
To make two new animals. This was misguided.
Not many escaped the decision, but I did.
We were huge, we were long, and nobody could beat us:
Not humans, hyenas, or leopards or cheetahs
A way must by found whereby they could defeat us
We ruled the land, and they had to unseat us.
There isn’t an animal longer or fatter
Than me, so escaping was no easy matter
But my glorious form I would not let them shatter
It’s stay or survive, and I’ve chosen the latter.
I slithered away and I hid in a cave
The others were stupid: they tried to be brave.
And I wish there’d been something I could do to save
Them. Alas, even I had a very close shave.
They were changed into elephants, stumpy and stunted
And small, skinny snakes. Wouldn’t you be affronted
To be cut in half, so that you could be hunted
By horrible humans? I need to be blunt: it
Was genocide. Now I’m the last of my kind.
But does anyone care? No! I’m always maligned!
If they call me a monster I don’t really mind:
But I’m not going to make myself easy to find.
So get out of my cave! Don’t come looking for me
For I promise you, you will not like what you see.
And then you’ll be the ones who must suffer or flee.
I’m the very last grootslang, so please, let me be.
Tom Juniper Poetry 