War At Wolf Hill

I wrote this poem in response to the killing of wolves or any creature, for sport. 

hungry, he called to his mate
to initiate the hunt.
the snow was deep,
nevertheless
the pack needed food
to sustain them all.

they all left the den
in single file, trotting
at a hushed pace.
alpha’s relative stayed back
to guard the pups
until the pack returned with food.
the playful pups crawled all over relative
nipping her tail,
chewing on her ears,
and just doing what pups do.

meanwhile, towards the den
and up the mountain came
two legs and his friends,
looking for something
to kill,
not because they were hungry,
not because they needed to feed
their families,
but just because they could,
just because they had the power
to do so, 
simply because they
liked to shoot animals.

suddenly,
relative smelled two legs.
she hurriedly aimed the pups
towards the den.
two legs yelled at his friends.
as he raised his rifle
shots rang out
and he killed relative
just because he could,
just because he had the power
to do so,
not because he was hungry.
he shot relative
just because.
he was not protecting
his livestock.
he was not protecting himself.
he killed her just because he could.

the pups whimpered in fear
as they tried to race to the very
back corner
of their home,
their den.
two legs crawled in their home
and killed the pups, also,
just because he could,
just because he hated those damn wolves,
just because he had the power to do so,
just because he had the rifle
and they didn’t.
they never had a chance.
the pups died in their den that day,
in their home
where they existed,
where they were born
and raised,
where they felt safe.

two legs was so proud of himself,
after all
he hit the jackpot.
he not only killed relative,
he also killed the pups.
as he was cutting off the front legs of relative
so he could collect his blood money
he wondered aloud
if he could get money
for wolf puppy feet.
he cut their legs off
just in case,
then he left the bodies lying
right by the den,
right in front
of the entrance
where the pups had played,
where they had grown enough
to venture out of their peaceful
home.

the hunt was successful for the pack.
they brought food
only to find the motionless body
of relative, and the silent bodies
of their beloved pups.

they stood near the den,
lifted their muzzles to the sky
and howled.
they howled their mournful cries
that reached the roof of the Heavens.

two legs had desecrated their home,
not even caring that the pack had no
ability to bury their young,
not even caring that he had killed
just to kill,
not feeling any remorse
that he killed just because he had the power
to do so,

not killing because he was hungry,
killing just to kill.

the pack ate their food
and then they moved,
for they had no way to bury their family
members.

time is running out for the pack,
space is running out.
soon, they will be no more.
two legs almost killed them into extinction
last time.

people can be so brutal,
trying to stifle and kill
what they do not understand,
just because they can,
and just because they have the power to do so.

catherine m howell 1 ~ 2010