Where The Land Moves On Forever

1.

Siringitu, the Maasai named it,

the sepia expanse of grassland,

and marshes that stretches to a blur

where sky seeps into it. The vegetation

succumbs to fires unless eaten

or frozen by night winds that scythe

its stiff red grass.

Spaniards trekking through bogs

of hibiscus, christened it "El-nino Flower"

for the rains that foster it. Germans

claimed the savannas conceal Eden.

Maasai elders hear echoes

from the soil or tell hikers they see

men clothed in flames, far away

Time never came here. Under Sausage

trees, elephants scrape dust

against bark, gather its fruit

and stamp the dried stalks

into the root's filigree.

Here, life and death are trunk and tail.

2.

The Rover's wheels yawed

in the cupped ruts of sand.

Dogged as wildebeasts needing water,

our tires tracked the western sun

without a destination, only the desire

for water and shade.

We found a sight none

had ever seen before. A female leopard,

her rosettes partly tanned by dust,

lay near the track, dead but undisturbed,

with the head and neck of a cub

protruding from her genitals.

Neither lived: the female dead,

giving birth, the cub, one quarter born.

No buzzard in the skies, not one Hyena

anywhere. Yusuf, the Nairobi guide

called it a holy scene that scavengers

would avoid. Maasai believe death

in labor poisons meat. We didn't disagree

and buried both deep enough to not stink.