I know why the elephant cries Lord,
Why her eyes well up with tears,
The reason she trumpets so sadly,
I know what it is the elephant fears.

God, she bears her weight with dignity,
Living under Your amazing grace,
Toiling on with a tremendous burden,
Such a pain laced look on her face.

In the ring at the circus she teeters,
On a ball she barely can see,
Stepping through sawdust and glitter,
Dreaming of when the pain sets her free.

In habitats in zoos of cities and towns,
She cares for and cuddles her young,
While visitors point and laugh at her bulk,
Never a thought for the insults they’ve flung.

Even out on the plaines of Africa,
Where as part of a herd she exists,
It’s a constant fight to be heard,
Easy to lose though she resists.

The reason the Elephant cries Lord,
Is that her own body won’t set her free.
For her bulk and her strength and her injury,
Are thorns of evil she feels but can’t see.

Tears roll for the misunderstandings,
For the rejection and neglect of man,
Because she’ll can’t be free of her thorns,
Really able to be all she possibly can.

Tears trace down her wrinkled cheeks,
Trinkling they splash off her chin,
And she looks at me in the mirror,
Knowing this sickness will win.

This world has no place for the bulky,
No forgiveness for baggy, graying skin,
No grasp of the pain of the hurting,
What it’s like when you can’t win.

I know why it is the elephant cries Lord,
When she knows no one is around,
For it’s in these unguarded moments,
When truth can surely be found.

Life’s taken her as some sacrifice,
For reasons not really that clear,
‘Tis the cross called to carry,
Bore ’til the Savior says, “Come here”.
                  d.f.a.v. 3/15/15
—Donna