In the jungle shrill cries of a marauding tiger could be heard.
Chills caused tremors down my spine, lying beside my downed plane.
I had heard stories of a man-eating tiger, a native’s word.
Strapping sticks to my broken leg, withstanding great pain.
I couldn’t stay near my plane for I smelled leaking fuel.
One hand was badly fractured, bones sticking out.
Smoke was curling from the engine, I knew survival was the duel.
Had to leave the area, I couldn’t walk about.
All my life faith was something like a fairy tale.
I lived life with one purpose in my mind.
Doing anything that could accomplish the goal in careful detail.
Making money as fast as could, wealth as his goal was defined.
Now I was all alone without a valet or food to eat.
I knew my survival depended on the scant memory of God I didn’t seek.
Remembering a day at the orphanage I grew up in a terrible defeat.
Here I was lost in a jungle, a wild freak.
I managed to hoist myself up in a tree.
The rough bark cut my hands.
I let out a holler when I hit my bruised knee.
My expensive suit wore clear brands.
I had found a comfortable branch to rest upon in the tree,
When The man-eating tiger appeared by the downed plane.
I saw him smelling my scent and blood at the wrecked debris.
I bit on a stick to keep from crying out in pain.
I saw him follow the trail to the tree and sat underneath..
It was a low squatty tree, I wasn’t safe at all.
Leaping, he grabbed my suit with the sharpest teeth.
He surveyed the area where I was at, trying to make me fall.
There was not a person in the jungle in sight.
I started praying not sure if God would hear my plea.
I was stabbing the tiger with all my might.
When a shot rang out, the tiger was no longer a threat to me.
To this day I know God led the men to the rescue.
Though I had denied him in every way.
It was my prayers that led me through.
When a man-eating tiger was hunting me that fateful day.
Poet Dorothy poetry99@txol.net Copyrighted 2000