The Brahman trampled by
I thought she’d surely die
But up from salted sands
A wild rose there stands

Cloud of dust at dusk
Horns and hides of rust
Brey and sprint and ******
Stampede in breach of trust

She stood before them tall
Her will to still them all
I saw her stand, and fall
Amid their hooves, ragdoll

I thought her gone; undone
An angel death had won

Then up from salted sands
My wild rose then stands
She grins, and slaps her hands
And chases down her brands