we are all mauled lions
hunting to regain our pride
questioning whether we can be heard
because often none roar back
when we are loudest in our pain
we only hear the drum  of shame on the wind
and feel the stinging reek of guilt
from those we ran with in the good times
fearless
when the sky was light blue, coral and ochre
but when the darkness descends
in jet, midnight and fog
they are scared to acknowledge us
scared they will be tainted
scared their roars won’t be answered
yet to realise
we are all mauled lions.