Let The Horses Die

I let a horse die today.
He wasn’t the only one.
I close my eyes, and I can see.
The hot, cramped pens,
Bodies crushed together,
Bodies worth less than a can of dog food.

 

I can hear the helpless whinnies,
As they echo against the steel ceiling.
And I know he’s there,
Waiting for us,
But we won’t come.

 

He’s wondering why he’s there now.
Why his soft bedding and food are gone.
Why the children he made happy,
Didn’t love him, didn’t come.

He’s swallowing dust for air now,
As he is slammed against the wall.
But he still hangs on after all these years,
Of fierce hits and violent tongues.

 

What did I give him in return?
Nothing that I promised.
I was working far too slowly,
To find him a place called home,
But he was shipped away in twilight,
Far away, to parts unknown.

 

But I was just too lazy,
To have someone save him.
I needed just one person,
And he could be alive.
But now, he stands there waiting.
And I would find him, if I could.

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Copyright 2006

Reviews

[J Walling]

Though I imagine I have different views on this subject than you, this was a very powerful poem. I loved it!

[Dareen]

Again, art against horse slaughter. Nice poem, but contradictory, see: writing a poem never will save a horse from becoming, as you put it, "a can of dog food".