Cry of the Polar Bear

Here roam I with my cubs in the Arctic
feasting on seals by ice packs
away from human predators.
We are content in this harsh world
with our double furs and blubber,
invisible to spying cameras.

But now our safety is no more;
for we awake and our beloved ice is gone.
Marooned on ice packs we famish and expire,
because I cannot swim with my pups.
And we marvel to behold late winter and early summer
as we chance upon unforeseen bodies of water.

I do not pity you, man,
when the seas eat your land;
for did you not turn on the heat
that now melts the ice?
Nor do I bewail the walruses, the reindeer, and the caribou.
Methink those neighbors of mine will tarry longer.

But mourn for me, the perishing polar bear;
or write me a book or script me a movie.
For soon I will be gone forever
like dodo the bird or the great dinosaur.
And no homo sapient dare trace the remains
of “Ursus maritimus”—the king of the north!

ARTHUR ZULU is an editor, book reviewer, playwright, and published author. He also writes short stories, scripts, essays, and poems.
For his works and FREE helps for writers, goto:
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mailto: controversialwriter@yahoo.com
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About the Author

Arthur Zulu is an editor, book reviewer, playwright, and published author. He also writes short stories, scripts, essays, and poems.