Poem: "Tiger Tracks"
Here is the second freebie for the August 6, 2013 Poetry Fishbowl. You can thank new prompter 
timescaper for this. The poem was inspired by a prompt from
kajones_writing and takes place in her World Walkers collection, in the world of Quiar which I created; it also fills the "love spell / potion gone wrong" square in my card for the
hc_bingo fest. Note that the "tigers" in this context are not great cats but rather thylacines or "Tasmanian tigers."
"Tiger Tracks"
We are travelers from birth:
must be, because tigers
are few and far between,
and the world has need of us.
I do not mind this history of traveling,
because it has given me
my pouch-brother Nerang
and the rest of my kangaroo-family.
Now the road is my home
and I go walkabout around Theas,
its dusty streets and trails
as familiar to me as my own stripes.
I visit the cities and the villages,
the little billabongs where people camp,
the caravans that wander between them
trading news and services and goods.
It is a tiger's work to hunt trouble when it comes,
for we have the strongest magic of all
and our duty is to protect those
who are weaker than ourselves.
"Kaiya," the people call, "come quickly!
Another charm has gone horribly wrong."
I go, my ears and whiskers already twitching,
my tail lashing behind me.
They are trouble, these charms,
where they used to be a convenience.
There have always been counterfeits, of course,
but they used to not work instead of harming people.
In this village, it's a matter of love spells --
the last one left the hapless victim
unable to feel love at all,
even for family and friends.
The people trust me because I'm a tiger,
even though I am no kin or neighbor of theirs,
just a wanderer with a particularly strong
tie to the land and the magic.
They do not understand that the gifts I have
are all but useless in this fight -- I'm a shapeshifter,
skilled in warding and defensive magic,
not a healer or a charm-maker.
"Kaiya, do something," the people plead,
and all I can do is listen to the terrible tale
of friendship turned to addiction
in the wake of a miscast charm.
What was meant to help find each other at need
has left one numbat boy lusting after the other
and unable to bear leaving his presence for long,
his friend restless and afraid of him.
I comfort the crying boys, so tiny and so determined,
almost like miniature tigers on either side of me,
their yips and whimpers sounding much the same
as the cubs I sometimes carry in my pouch.
"You must keep the restless one in a house,"
I explain, "and let the dejected one roam around it.
Then they will be close enough for comfort,
but far enough for safety."
Nobody is satisfied with that solution,
least of all me, but is the best we can do for now.
I turn down the offer of a room and pitch a tent
outside the house to cuddle the lonely numbat.
In the morning I will leave this village
and go in search of other tigers.
Surely someone will know what is going on --
and have the right magic to put an end to it.
timescaper for this. The poem was inspired by a prompt from
kajones_writing and takes place in her World Walkers collection, in the world of Quiar which I created; it also fills the "love spell / potion gone wrong" square in my card for the
hc_bingo fest. Note that the "tigers" in this context are not great cats but rather thylacines or "Tasmanian tigers."
"Tiger Tracks"
We are travelers from birth:
must be, because tigers
are few and far between,
and the world has need of us.
I do not mind this history of traveling,
because it has given me
my pouch-brother Nerang
and the rest of my kangaroo-family.
Now the road is my home
and I go walkabout around Theas,
its dusty streets and trails
as familiar to me as my own stripes.
I visit the cities and the villages,
the little billabongs where people camp,
the caravans that wander between them
trading news and services and goods.
It is a tiger's work to hunt trouble when it comes,
for we have the strongest magic of all
and our duty is to protect those
who are weaker than ourselves.
"Kaiya," the people call, "come quickly!
Another charm has gone horribly wrong."
I go, my ears and whiskers already twitching,
my tail lashing behind me.
They are trouble, these charms,
where they used to be a convenience.
There have always been counterfeits, of course,
but they used to not work instead of harming people.
In this village, it's a matter of love spells --
the last one left the hapless victim
unable to feel love at all,
even for family and friends.
The people trust me because I'm a tiger,
even though I am no kin or neighbor of theirs,
just a wanderer with a particularly strong
tie to the land and the magic.
They do not understand that the gifts I have
are all but useless in this fight -- I'm a shapeshifter,
skilled in warding and defensive magic,
not a healer or a charm-maker.
"Kaiya, do something," the people plead,
and all I can do is listen to the terrible tale
of friendship turned to addiction
in the wake of a miscast charm.
What was meant to help find each other at need
has left one numbat boy lusting after the other
and unable to bear leaving his presence for long,
his friend restless and afraid of him.
I comfort the crying boys, so tiny and so determined,
almost like miniature tigers on either side of me,
their yips and whimpers sounding much the same
as the cubs I sometimes carry in my pouch.
"You must keep the restless one in a house,"
I explain, "and let the dejected one roam around it.
Then they will be close enough for comfort,
but far enough for safety."
Nobody is satisfied with that solution,
least of all me, but is the best we can do for now.
I turn down the offer of a room and pitch a tent
outside the house to cuddle the lonely numbat.
In the morning I will leave this village
and go in search of other tigers.
Surely someone will know what is going on --
and have the right magic to put an end to it.