Xióngmāo (panda)
By Chloe L
Peace. Patience. Panda.
Bamboo trees, hacked down by the roots.
My family, one of the last families of the Chengdu Giant Panda.
No food for us to lick, chew or to fill up on.
The weather, sweating through the cold, makes us miserable.
No trees to climb on is more misery than anything.
None at all. All cut down by Homo sapiens.
Humans, messing with our habitat.
The natural, beautiful Sichuan environment.
All gone.
None left to love, to care for, or to remember.
All of us have been the burning heart, since before we can remember.
We are the rushing spirit. The coursing river. The raging fire.
Passed between generations, our gift, but not the happiness.
Not the secrets.
Not the strength.
Not just the faded stories and songs, mingled between time.
Just the ancient keepers of time, the compassion to the environment.
We will make them change.
For it is the panda way.