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The gorilla

The gorilla does what gorillas can
sits on a dung heap,
protecting it with its life
as if it belongs
to only him

and eats bananas
from its own republic
faster than they grow,

scratches for tics and lice,
swats some opponents
down like flies

scorches the plain
over and over again
and shakes its head
walking among the slain

not able to understand
where every thing has gone
and although it walks
on hind legs,

growls words as speech
and sometimes begs,
but one task
is beyond its reach:

the gorilla cannot
become human again.

[Reference: August 1968 by W.H. Auden.]

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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