He was made to live on the borders of
life and death, on the margins of more
powerful predators, lurking
to tempt fate and steal scraps.
Ever the crafty devil,
his ancestors scavenged
provoking ancient Egyptians to create
Anubis, a god in his image, patrolling
the border between
the living and the dead.
But the jackal’s ancestry
was far too strong, too cunning,
outliving a civilization of
primitive wonders along with
even the old male lion
who repeatedly chases him from
a fresh kill, threatening him with
certain death, for
the shadow of death
means little more than looming
specter of life to
Anubis, the lowly Jackal,
made death-god by man.
Also written for NaPoWriMo’s day 23 prompt: “write a poem about an animal”.
I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m running out of gas. I still welcome the challenge, but I’m practically limping to the barn these days.