He carries indolence in the way he stands,
His arms akimbo, breathing quietly,
Swaying gently like the elephant grass.
His eyes posses a paradoxical faraway look
As he listens to the innate rustle and strategy
Of primordial beings surfacing
From below the earth, seeking food.
He does not fear the reptilian world,
Or the colobrid king,
The jungle is his home and
His profession is not learnt
But inherited like his style,
His skin and his thoughts;
He just remembers his role.
As he gets involved in his work
He gathers a fiat accompli in his posture,
A natural belief that his primeval instinct
Will guide him to the serpentine movement
And before the hiss or release of amber fluid,
His hand will lash out in glistening elegance
To subdue the figural representation of fear.

 © Mukesh Williams

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