It’s been weeks now and my heart is heavier than muddy boots. I walk the mountain and the kangaroo families flee from potential danger. Yesterday I met a woman who said, I have lived near here for forty years. They are starving. The cull must go on. I looked at her weathered face and then at the green grass growing peacefully on the slope. I wanted to speak but replied,  I don’t want to talk about this. She continued, they are only animals, more are killed on the roads. I cracked. I had seen the new housing development from the peak. Humans in competition with another species. What else should we do, she asked. You don’t expect us to put a gun to our heads. Perhaps we should, I flung in her direction as she turned and walked home to safety.

I read that 11,000 kangaroos have been killed on the mountain and buried in shallow graves since 2009. Not counting 14,000 killed by the defense force. Enough is enough.

They ran,

Away from the

Footsteps that

Smelt like man.

I paused.

One foot close

To a white bone death

They caused.

You know,

It’s nothing.

Be afraid of

The truth we sow.

We lie,

In hope of

A better way

To live and die.

They run,

Because

In our hearts

We carry the gun.

I stop

Believing

That kindness begins

At the top.