by [email protected]
In Egypt they worshipped me....
I am the Cat.
Because I bend not to the will of Man
they call me a mystery.
When I catch and play with a mouse,
they call me cruel.
Yet they take animals to keep
In parks and zoos, that they may gape at them.
Nay, more, they persecute their own human creatures;
They shoot, they hang, they torture them,
Yet dare to call me cruel.
Could they but see themselves
As I, the Cat, see them,
Bereft of all freedom,
Who follow in the ruts others made
Long Ages gone!
Who have rings in their noses,
Yet know it not.
They hate me, the Cat.
Because, forsooth, I do not love them.
Do they love me?
They think all animals are made for their pleasure,
To be their slaves.
And, while I kill only for my own needs,
They kill for pleasure, power and gold,
And then pretend to a superiority!
Why should I love them?
I, the Cat, whose ancestors
Proudly trod the jungle,
Not one ever tamed by man.
Ah, do they know
That the same immortal hand
That gave them breath, gave breath to me?
But I alone am free--
I am the Cat.
Return to Poetry
** Fair Use Notice**
This document may contain copyrighted material, use of which has not been
specifically authorized by the copyright owners. I believe that this
not-for-profit, educational use on the Web constitutes a fair use of the
copyrighted material (as provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright
Law). If you wish to use this copyrighted material for purposes of your
own that go beyond fair use, you must obtain permission from the copyright
owner.