Al Gunby

The Human Animal


Arriving helpless, totally unfit
For years to live without defense and aid
From mother, father, tribe — the human child
Will grow and move across the face of Earth,
A tidal flow, to claim more habitat
And leave but little for our creature kin.

In pride we justify what we have done
By pointing to our sentience and our
Opposing thumb. “We talk, we build, we dream;
We have the right,” we say, and isolate
Ourselves from Earth, but creep back to her arms
When we feel drawn once more to heal our souls.




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