The lioness, with head bowed,
limps across the muddy stream
on her split and swollen pads.
Taking a few sips of the stagnant water,
Then, lying down to cool her sun parched
weary body, she waits for death.
Starvation was common on the plains
since the draught had driven most of
the game to other regions to search
The lioness, without her mate,
was ill prepared to fend for herself,
but hunters had taken her mate, and
now she is alone.
She knew her life was done
if she couldn’t find some
game this day. Ribs, protruding
through labored breathing, made
this fact obvious.
Suddenly, a small gazelle,
more dead than alive,
which had gotten separated
from its’ heard, came to the
stream for a drink. Oblivious
to the death that waited there.
A merciful God relieved the
gazelle’s misery, and provided
sustenance for the lioness,
as the orange sun sank
into the African plains.
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