Deep
below the surface
the lion
waits.
It waits for what it wants
what it did not get
the first time.
It’s not a young lion
anymore
and it’s not an old lion
but it knows
what old is
and it’s not going to get old
the way it was young.
It’s working things out
in the dark.
What makes it a lion?
A belief and not a lie
it tells to itself.
A mane
growing out of its back
even though it shaved
everyday
because it thought
it was a kitten.
Now,
the lion knows
it’s a lion
terrible
in its power
able to kill
and love
at the same time
compartmentalized
and satisfied
integrated
and whole
the lion walks at night
in all its pride
between the old and the young
between buildings
and trees
between this life
and the next.
It’s not where the lion stands
that matters
but the fact
that it knows it’s a lion.
It’s not going to be caged
or put away
or told to go somewhere else.
It was told it was harmless
a kitten
It was told it needed milk
a place to curl up
by a cozy fire
and people to take care of it.
But now,
the lion takes care of itself
because it knows
it’s a lion.
Yess!!! Very impressive
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Loreta!!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Good use of metaphor!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Liz!!! 🙂
LikeLike
Interesting poem
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks penhive!!!
LikeLike