We originally came from Africa
\nAnd were shipped across the sea
\nTo Peru yes and to Colombia
\nTo circus totally
\nImmersed in all that squalor
\nBeaten black and blue
\nWhipped and beaten with iron bars
\nAnd all of us were starved too<\/p>\n
Circus is a vile place
\nA darkly place of woe
\nNo place for any wild soul
\nThe so called travelling show
\nMoving every single week
\nTo another town and place
\nIn trailers in the hot sun
\nWhich serves often as a Base<\/p>\n
It’s no home from home
\nIt’s awful
\nNo water no where to lie
\nUnder a ho t sun burning down
\nInside of course we cry
\nWe cannot roar
\nWe just cannot
\nInside ourselves we weep
\nContained in these cramped cages
\nWhere we eat and sleep<\/p>\n
Our sleeping hours are nightmarish
\nFor we dream of course we dream
\nBut being caged up every day
\nIs not what it does seem
\nNo exercise to speak of
\nThe food a rancid mess
\nThe water often filthy
\nAll we get is stress<\/p>\n
And then of course our training
\nWe have to do these tricks
\nLeap through hoops of fire sometimes
\nThese dirty little pricks
\nBeat us scream and violate
\nOur kingdom with their pain
\nFor a quieter life we do it
\nAt least, then we gain<\/p>\n
A little self respect Not much
\nBut of course we ache a lot
\nBeaten about the body
\nOften on one spot
\nBruised and bleeding
\nWhere Sometimes ulcers form
\nBut still we get
\nHit and kicked and even flicked
\nWith a cane and we are wet<\/p>\n
From our own blood, very often
\nThis is what they do
\nDay In Day our
\nnight and day
\nHonestly it’s true
\nWe suffer how we suffer
\nWith no where else to go
\nJust take the rap and all their crap
\nAnd be part of the show<\/p>\n
Our injuries are many
\nNo veterinary comes
\nWe limp into the circus
\nBroken teeth and gums
\nBleeding from the experience
\nKings of the jungle we
\nAre treated with out any respect
\nIf only we were free<\/p>\n
That’s the dream we all dream
\nTo get out of this hole
\nTo feel some sunshine on our backs
\nTo be a wild soul
\nThat appreciates the true light,
\nThe grass beneath our feet
\nThe smells of bush and jungle
\nWhere life is so complete<\/p>\n
The cries of other animals
\nThe birdsong from the trees
\nA aanctuary where we can run
\nAnd walk and really please
\nOurselves relax and do our thing
\nBe what we want to be
\nNot wrestle with the torture
\nAnd the evil that we see<\/p>\n
JAn Creamer a name to conjur with
\nThe director of ADI
\nWe heard on the grapevine
\nOn the pipeline in the sky
\nThat they might come to rescue us
\nIn some twilight raid
\nThat pushed our heart beat higher
\nTo leave the circus trade<\/p>\n
The food was very rancid
\nAnd not enough each day
\nSometimes we got nothing
\nHow is that a way
\nOf keeping lions I ask you
\nNow can we all go on
\nEating bloody carrion
\nThis life is just a con<\/p>\n
We heard about Emoya
\nIn Limpopo far away
\nIt would be a long journey
\nAnd take more than a day
\nCrated up and shipped by air
\nOver land and sea
\nIt all seemed most exciting
\nIf it could only be<\/p>\n
LEo Munica and Africa
\nAnd Kiara we might go
\nTo Emoya if we were fortunate
\nTo leave the circus show
\nBe part of the shipment
\nSome 33 or so
\nGoing to different places
\nIn Africa you know<\/p>\n
That great and fabulous country
\nOur birthplace it would be
\nAmazing if they could do this
\nBack in the old country
\nAnd well one day it happened
\nThey broke us out and we
\nWere put in crates
\nFor shipment
\nOver land and sea<\/p>\n
We were fed and watered
\nAnd felt cared for for we
\nWere leaving South America
\nForever actually
\nFlying off to Africa
\nTo the great land of our birth
\nTo feel the golden sunshine
\nAnd of course all that worth<\/p>\n
The sanctuary was beautiful
\nBush and sun and trees
\nAnd a freedom to do what we wanted
\nTo listen to the bees
\nAnd insects and to look up
\nRight up in the sky
\nTo feel the sun upon our backs
\nOr in the shade just lie<\/p>\n
saved we were in Africa now
\nWith our brothers also free
\nWe can learn to roar again
\nNot weep and we could be
\nPlaying stalking happy
\nTo wake up with the dawn
\nAnd go to sleep when the night sky
\nAlso takes a yawn<\/p>\n
To share the realisation
\nOf freedom and to be
\nAble just to live again
\nTo be in ecstasy
\nTo use our sentient nature
\nTo listen to the breeze
\nTo smell the sweetest flowers around
\nThat really and truthfully tease<\/p>\n
All our olfactory senses
\nAnd to just watch butterflies
\nAnd ants around our toes sometimes
\nEMoya is a prize
\nTo have been the winners reAlly
\nAnd to just be here to stay
\nIs a dream come true for all of us
\nFor we love it more each day<\/p>\n
A poem dedicated to ADI and to Jan CreamerAnd to all the volunteers and staff that makes dreams comes true<\/p>\n
And to Emoya a sanctuary that creates paradise for circus lions<\/p>\n
Thank you for all you do x<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
We originally came from Africa And were shipped across the sea To Peru yes and to Colombia To circus totally Immersed in all that squalor Beaten black and blue Whipped and beaten with iron bars And all of us were … Continue reading