Waving hills, home to the blue antelope, shimmered like disturbed still water,
The reflections turn into fragmented pieces of glass like images, after
The disturbance has died away, light thrown from the sun bounces forward,
Trying to capture the rays, given the speed, they rush crazily toward
The hills where the original drama first occurred, home to the blue antelopes.
As they say waving not drowning, but are we in time to save the sinking body?
Standing on the river bank, watching a flailing arm reach up towards the sun
Body sinking fast amidst bubbles of confusion, pretty much, with this world, done.
But water was not their friend, it was the killer, although unwittingly,
The hills stood by, continued to wave, and the blue antelope sat down and wept.
There was a strange fence at the bottom of my garden that I was forbidden to go near,
But people being what they are, I could not resist a short peak over there,
It yielded no real answers apart from re-running old dreams, on worn out film.
It showed a man on his knees trying to clean the broken tiles outside a church,
He was bothered that the millions of cracks would hold some nasty germs.
I was invited to supply information about the white hot ants invading my arm,
I dropped the needle on the floor as the soft clouds carried me away from harm,
I was in Grand Central Station like commotion in the eyes and the mind, not relaxed
I journeyed down into the mud flats of the Thames Estuary, not really facts
That would disturb anyone, nor make waves, but it happened anyway.
There are patterns expressed as distant clouds, they are not easy to realise,
But dismiss them at your peril, make sure you know what you’re doing and why.
Take a page from your latest book and eat it, try not to vomit it back again,
There is mileage in watching the blue antelope look so crest fallen and in pain;
Water is the giver of life to all plants, animals and people, but it also kills.
No real comfort for the grieving blue creature, no one said much, we all kept quiet,
A hand was placed upon the back of the antelope to sooth its shaking from tears;
The smile of a blue antelope regained its position upon its very beautiful face,
The day was marked in tragedy, it kept people asking all the wrong questions,
What were people doing swimming across a river that had claimed so many lives?
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/234046253_The_extinct_blue_antelope