Cry of the Polar Bear

Here roam I with my cubs in the Arcticfeasting on seals by ice packsaway from human predators.We are content in this harsh worldwith our double furs and blubber,invisible to spying cameras.But now our safety is no more;for we awake and our beloved ice is gone.Marooned on ice packs we famish and expire,because I cannot swim with my pups.And we marvel to behold late winter and early summeras we chance upon unforeseen bodies of water.I do not pity you, man, when the seas eat your land;for did you not turn on the heatthat now melts the ice?Nor do I bewail the walruses, the reindeer, and the caribou.Methink those neighbors of mine will tarry longer.But mourn for me, the perishing polar bear;or write me a book or script me a movie.For soon I will be gone foreverlike dodo the bird or the great dinosaur.And no homo sapient dare trace the remainsof “Ursus maritimus”—the king of the north!(EXCERPTED FROM "BEAUTIFUL," A POETRY COLLECTION BY ARTHUR ZULU, TO BE PUBLISHED SOON. IF YOU ENJOYED READING THE POEM AND WOULD LIKE TO MAKE A VOLUNTARY CONTRIBUTION TOWARD ITS PUBLICATION, PLEASE CONTACT THE AUTHOR.)