a large wild Eurasian ox that was the ancestor of domestic cattle. It was probably exterminated in Britain in the Bronze Age, and the last one was killed in Poland in 1627.
A strong wind blows tonight.
Catching the breeze,
I whisk myself nine thousand miles
To the caves at Lascaux
In the south of France.
There, in the dim light,
My eyes take in the legendary aurochs,
Stampeding across the stony walls
As it has for countless millennia.
Situated at the foot of Wall Street,
The bronze bull stands frozen in time,
Yet in a constant state of anticipation.
Ready to charge,
A sneer curls his lip
And his eyes contort with blind rage.
But I fear not,
For I know that he, like me,
Is a misunderstood creature,
Tethered by social constructs
And imprisoned by misconceptions.
Slowly, gingerly, I reach out my hand
To comfort the brazen beast.
When my eyes flutter open,
The anger in his gaze
Has been stripped away,
And in its place, a spark of something greater.
Is it hope? Relief? Happiness?
He steps forward,
Gently nuzzling my arm,
And I could swear there are tears in his eyes.
© Chester Sakamoto