FEATURE ARTICLE

Wednesday, July 3, 2019
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AN EVENING WALK WITH BUKTU (POEM)

he powerful sun has just set, but it’s not yet fully dark.
The sky still maintains its afterglow
and tints the forest landscape with a beautiful monochrome.

The wood path beckons me for evening walk,
A strong urge I refuse to ignore or adjourn.
Buktu is my faithful dog, my fidelis canis.

Down the narrow foot path both of us walk,
Strolling where palm trees and fig trees
Skirt the southern suburb.

We approach a forked path where a dead dog lay.
Flies hiss and buzz out of its carcass.
Putrid smell overpower the wood fragrance.

My dog and I are moved by the fate of the dog,
And people with feelings will shed tears on the spot.
I watch as Buktu retreats, not out of cowardice but due to empathy.

It stares and signals ‘enough is enough’.
Mournfully he urges me to leave for home.
The following day Buktu refuses to walk that path.

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