the jaguar and the quetzal

Every time I’m lost out in the night

I look for memories of light

You are the one I want to see

You are the one who reached for me

You are the one who really matters

–It’s You That Really Matters, Christopher Cross


The Jaguar and the Quetzal


A wounded Jaguar lay on a branch.

Full of pain, it groaned, more like the sound of distant thunder

that tells that the feline’s strength was draining.

It befits the dusk, whose fading sunlight portrays a slow death.


A lonely Quetzal perched on a twig.

Full of grief, it is unable to sing, more like the deafening silence

that tells that the bird’s radiance was waning.

It befits the dusk, whose creeping shadows beckon a potent darkness.


The Quetzal saw the Jaguar,

and it understood.

The jaguar saw the Quetzal,

and it understood.


The Jaguar was in terrible pain that it roared.

The thunder was deafening in the dark of the night.

The Quetzal could hear, could feel;and it was scared.


The Quetzal was in deep sorrow that it flew away.

The flight was difficult in the chill of the night.

The Jaguar could see, could feel; and it, too, was scared.


A sudden pierce in the Quetzal’s heart

made its beak let out a kyow.

A pair of whimpers that showed its compassion

for the Jaguar’s ache.


A sudden rush in the Jaguar’s body

compelled its limbs to move.

A few steps that showed its intention

to ignore the pain and thrive.


The Jaguar then leaps to conquer the dawn

and ensures that the sun shall rise for the Quetzal.

Though the Jaguar has left the forest to remain elusive,

she would keep this light in her heart forever.

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