Wrong Place At The At Wrong Time Poem by Kindo Emmanuel

I wandered where the grasses sway,
Where dusk invites the beasts to play.
The Serengeti, vast and wild,
Would not forgive a reckless child.

The sun had bled across the sky,
A crimson wound where light would die.
I heard the whispers, soft yet near,
The kind that stitch the air with fear.

A shadow moved—a burning stare,
Its amber eyes cut through the air.
The silence cracked, my hope grew thin,
As fangs and claws crept closer in.

I cursed my steps, my pride, my greed,
That brought me where the hunters feed.
The path was lost, the moon too dim,
The night became death's requiem.

Hyenas laughed—a jagged sound,
Their echoes shook the darkened ground.
A leopard dropped from ghostly trees,
And froze the earth, and stilled the breeze.

My breath was shards, my heart a drum,
The jungle's hymn was cold and numb.
I prayed for dawn, for mercy, light,
For angels wandering the night.

But time stood still, the stars betrayed,
The dark obeyed the teeth it made.
I stood, a soul on nature's line—
Wrong place to be, wrong hour of time.

A growl became a sharpened blade,
That sliced the hope I thought I'd made.
Yet just before my fate could break,
A roar of man stirred me awake.

Headlights tore through shadows deep,
The beasts withdrew, the dark did weep.
I fell into the ranger's hands,
Half-ghost upon those haunted sands.

Yet still, when ghostly moonbeams climb,
I taste that fear in every rhyme.
Some scars will cling, like ancient grime—
From the wrong place… at the wrong time.