The Last Will and Testament of the Tiger

When you have stolen my skin from my entity and removed the roar from my life O hunter wield that thunder stick with some grace some skill I too have hunted and killed many many times

but every kill was a prayer in praise of the Creator My movements were always clear clean and merciful Such is the way of true believers

Do you now slice slash and pare clean O Skinner I pray only that you leave no part of me behind to be eaten by the Jackal and the Hyena I have ruled this forest on behalf of the creator himself and there is no honour in a king becoming carrion

So send the sacred colour from my coat back to the maker of sunsets Return the darkness of my stripe back to the shadows and the undergrowth Send the white from my fur back to the frost of a new ice age that it return to avenge me Send my roar back to my maker that he fill the universe with my rage at this shabby end for a true king<

Send my claws to the young of the high born to save them from their own nightmares

Send my teeth to Tibet that their aspirations find new Teeth

Send my bones to China that they find a cure for the fear that builds such great walls

Send my fat to Singapore so they learn to make a balm for pain that is mine not only in name

Send my Shit to the Alchemists for that is the only substance they have not yet tried

Give my entrails to whoever shall take them But hang on to my eyes you puny murderer That your tribe might know that you did not kill a creature beneath you that I looked you in the eye and did not flinch when you shot me

Instead I have turned away Released from the cancer of your footprint

Amit Dahiyabadshah Poet Laureate. Poet In Residence.

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