As I walked through the maze of wealth and power,
Glancing through screams trapped in glass cases.
Ivory, they called it.
Cruelty, I knew it.
My eyes marveled at the beauty of the sculptures
My mind, however, questioned this culture.
One where we take something
That in its nature is beautiful without interference
And destroy it to create something of relevance.
This ivory from those creatures innocent,
Stolen from them for our merriment.
They took Gods gift, in its form primal
And hit it repeatedly to make a stone idol.
An idol of worship, nevertheless
But humanity was lost in the process.
Now when I see these works of art,
I will see the creatures, at the very start
When people hear prayers and hymns,
I will hear the pain and screams.
© Sneha P [Rights Reserved 2019]