This lioness trophy has haunted me since the first time I saw her. I see everything for her perspective on living her life that she was robbed of.
Enjoy this piece From her perspective…
How many moons did I follow across the sky before my breath was taken from me?
How many seasons did I rise with the sun, my paws pressing the warm earth, my body moving like wind through the tall grass?
I remember the cubs—mine.
Their small bodies tumbling in the golden light, their laughter carried on the dry African breeze.
I cleaned their wounds, taught them silence, showed them how to listen to the heartbeat of the land.
Each one a piece of me, left behind in the rhythm of the wild.
The sun…
You have never seen it as I have.
It does not simply rise—it awakens the world.
It spills fire across the horizon, warming bone and blood, whispering: you are alive, you belong.
I hunted when I must.
Not for pride. Not for memory. Not for display.
Only for hunger. Only for life.
But I was hunted for stillness.
For a moment frozen.
For a story stripped of breath.
Now I stand where no wind moves, where no scent of dust or prey reaches me, where no cub calls my name.
Do they remember me?
Do my daughters walk the same paths, teaching life with patient eyes?
Do my sons carry my strength in their roar across the plains?
I do not know.
I only know this—
I was not made for walls or museums.
I was not made to be forgotten beneath glass and silence.
I was made of sun and grass and blood and breath.
I was made to roam.
And still, somewhere beneath the memory of my skin, the wild remains.
Forgotten Winds 