Mina Li

One had eyes like the fawn who had lost its mother,

Another the eyes of a tiger.

One was a child, trying to scream,

Another a woman caught by surprise,

The fear-stricken rabbit facing the snake.

All saw her coming and fled,

Dispersing like dandelion seeds in the breeze,

And vanished in the wind when she blew.

Separated from one another,

They lay alone

On the cold, unforgiving ground,

Trembling as their life poured from them

In crimson rivers,

An acrid, metallic scent filling the air.

One cried out like the dying calf

Silenced as the wolf ended its fragile existence,

One was a mother running,

Shielding her children,

The desperate hen struggling to protect her young.

I look down,

And see my hands,

Dripping with liquid death.

Those bloodstained hands which are hers,

Have now turned into mine.