Relentless Pursuit
Rushing rivers rose
marooning us on marshy isles.
The dry land of our birth
receded from view.
Gone were the days
of hunting easy prey:
zebra, giraffe, impala
at dawn, dusk, dark.
We turned to face
the swiftly sweeping horns
and punishing pounding hoofs
of Cape buffalo.
Hunger drove us
over the grassy plains,
through entangled vegetation,
into deep rivers.
We tracked the herd
in one hundred twenty
degrees of roaring-fire
midday sun.
Dropped on the plains
from starvation, exhaustion,
injuries, infected wounds.
Drowned in rivers.
Clawed our way back
from the edge of extinction.
Learned the buffalo ways.
Pressed forward.
We anticipate
their favored watering sites.
Wait for their arrival.
Attack our prey.
We, lionesses of North Africa,
hunters of the Vora Pride,
grow bolder, bigger, and better
than any lion on dry land.
Go where no lion has ever gone.
Do what has never been done.
Advance the genetic imprint.
Raise the bar for those who follow.