You are the last whale, Washed up on a far beach. The waves are pushing against you, Your brothers and sisters are gone. The light is too bright for your eyes. You cannot breathe, Small children are throwing rocks and laughing, Climbing on your body; You die alone, your ears are full of wind. You are the last buffalo, The sun is setting over the plains. You stand alone, enormous, Heavy with fur, lonely. You are tired of running, tired of running. All your friends have gone It seems even the earth has turned against you. There is no-one to say goodbye. You rest, listening to the wind. When the time is right, The spirit of the wolf returns. -Gary Lawless