Thursday, August 27, 2015
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Real Horse Rescues | Catskill Animal Sanctuary | ABC-WTEN
As mentioned in my previous post, this film was clearly done very close to when my dad and I visited CAS, so most of the animals are the same ones I saw. And this segment is wonderful!
Pics from Catskill Animal Sanctuary
I know I just posted that I would not be as active on this blog, but I just took a trip that I think is best shared here. I went to upstate NY to see my dad, as I do every year. I always try to get to one of the upstate farm sanctuaries, though our schedule doesn't allow me to do this every year. This year I had an added incentive. For Father's Day, I had decided to sponsor an animal at CAS (Catskill Animal Sanctuary) in my dad's name as a present. This comes with a family membership for the year. I cancelled my vegan cuts subscription to make room in my budget (sigh). Since CAS is the closest sanctuary to my dad's house, I figured this was the way to let him get the most out of a membership.
We ended up sponsoring a rooster named Mr. Peabody. Mr. Peabody came from a grade school hatchery experiment. Apparently when these lessons are over for the kids, the baby chicks often meet unhappy ends. We also met some small hens whose legs were deformed because they came from a school incubation project, and the kids forgot to turn the eggs and let both sides be exposed to light and warmth. Of course in nature, a hen knows to turn her eggs. But anyhow, Mr. Peabody and his siblings went to CAS, and the rest is history.
Besides meeting Mr. Peabody, my dad's favorite resident was Bob, a 48 year old mule. We also gave some pigs belly rubs and met many ducks, horses, and sheep. CAS has a specialty in rehabilitating blind horses, and they have a special paddock where we met those special critters.
One of the coolest souvenirs that I came away with was that a couple of my photos (three actually) had beautiful rainbow light anomalies on them. Two were an overhead shot of the farm from the driveway, and one was of Bob grazing under a tree. I don't know if these light anomalies were of the scientific/photographic or spiritual nature, but either way I choose to take them spiritually. No matter how they occurred, they are there for a reason. I feel they are very reflective of the peaceful, loving, and very spiritually evolved energy of the farm. I was very glad we got to visit, and I am very glad I chose to invest my money there.
My own photos are here, and I will share a video interview with the CAS founder in a separate post. It was filmed very recently, so it shows most of the same critters my dad and I met.
You can find CAS at https://casanctuary.org/
I highly recommend that anyone reading this research where there may be a farmed animal sanctuary near to them. Some are private, but the ones with farm tours are usually non-profits that are highly accessible, and are valuable members of any community.
Mr. Peabody and our tour guide, Christian. The kids from "Camp Kindness" are playing in the background. |
We ended up sponsoring a rooster named Mr. Peabody. Mr. Peabody came from a grade school hatchery experiment. Apparently when these lessons are over for the kids, the baby chicks often meet unhappy ends. We also met some small hens whose legs were deformed because they came from a school incubation project, and the kids forgot to turn the eggs and let both sides be exposed to light and warmth. Of course in nature, a hen knows to turn her eggs. But anyhow, Mr. Peabody and his siblings went to CAS, and the rest is history.
Besides meeting Mr. Peabody, my dad's favorite resident was Bob, a 48 year old mule. We also gave some pigs belly rubs and met many ducks, horses, and sheep. CAS has a specialty in rehabilitating blind horses, and they have a special paddock where we met those special critters.
Left to Right: Dad, Bob, and Christian |
Bob under a rainbow tree (click to enlarge) |
My own photos are here, and I will share a video interview with the CAS founder in a separate post. It was filmed very recently, so it shows most of the same critters my dad and I met.
You can find CAS at https://casanctuary.org/
I highly recommend that anyone reading this research where there may be a farmed animal sanctuary near to them. Some are private, but the ones with farm tours are usually non-profits that are highly accessible, and are valuable members of any community.
Farm with rainbow light anomaly (click to enlarge) |
Friday, July 10, 2015
New Blog Site
Hey there! I have a new blog domain for my vegan pagan specific ramblings, so I wanted to send folks that'a'way. I will still post in here occasionally, but most of my efforts on this topic will be found at: http://www.witchesandpagans.com/pagan-culture-blogs/ahimsa-grove.html
Thanks, and blessed be! Leslie
Thanks, and blessed be! Leslie
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
WARM New Year Wishes
Well, how did 2015 happen?! Things have been moving at a rapid pace for me, as usual. Except last week, when a head and chest cold brought everything to a screeching halt. I don't get really sick very often since I went vegan, so this has been a frustrating experience. Yet my recovery has been quite rapid and I have not relied on pain killers or other drugs to prop me up, so I still feel an improvement.
I just want to share a few pics from our vegan holiday potluck in my neck of the woods (very cold woods), and send my wishes to everyone for a peace-full 2015. Let this be the one. Let compassion spread and freedom blossom for human kind and for the other animals who share our Mother. Blessed be.
I just want to share a few pics from our vegan holiday potluck in my neck of the woods (very cold woods), and send my wishes to everyone for a peace-full 2015. Let this be the one. Let compassion spread and freedom blossom for human kind and for the other animals who share our Mother. Blessed be.
cheers, Mom!
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
poetry about animals (and how we treat them) through the ages
In September, I went to a couple of workshops at the
Belfast (Maine) Poetry Festival. One of the workshops was about poetry which
interacts with current events and social issues.
I don’t know much about poetry yet, I am just learning.
But the workshop leader surprised me when she said that poetry is not
traditionally seen (by academics) as a subject which dwells on politics or
current events. I was very surprised to hear this. Maybe it’s just due to my
personal tastes, but I find I am only really drawn to poetry and poets who did
(or do) speak to these themes. And my special interest is animal rights.
I am very curious about the people whom I see as my
“ancestors,” who are writers, theologians, feminists, etc. throughout history
who considered the welfare and even the equality of non-human animals in at
least some of their work. I am not trying to say these people were “vegans” in
the modern sense of the word. I just mean their thought provided a heritage and
a stepping-stone for us.
Due to my interests, I have come across a few writers who
used poetry to address animal rights. I will put a few pieces of work down
here, to help anyone else who is seeking the information. Drink deep at the
well of inspiration!
Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) was not well-known as a poet
until after her death. She was a very private person, so her lifestyle and
philosophies are only partially known. There is evidence that she was
vegetarian for at least part of her life, and several of her poems contain
animals as subject and metaphor. Dickinson had hundreds of poems, mostly
“self-published” into hand-sewn notebooks, stashed away in her home and found
by relatives after her death. None of them were titled, though many have been
titled or numbered by subsequent publishers.
Here is just one of her poems (untitled) that touches on
the lives of animals she knew in her own little world.
IF I can stop one heart
from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
-- Emily Dickinson
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
-- Emily Dickinson
Charlotte
Perkins Gilman (1860-1935) was a more public figure and a well-published author
during her own lifetime. Her best known work is “The Yellow Wallpaper,” which is a women’s studies
classic and is a fictionalized account of Gilman’s own experience with
post-partum depression (specifically the way her male doctor and her husband
responded to her distress).
Like many
feminists (suffragists) of her era, Gilman also saw the plight of non-human
animals as very connected to the plight of women, or other oppressed human
beings. In her book, “Herland,” she deals with issues of sexism and
domination-culture by writing about a land of women. The story is told through
the incredulous point of view of some men who stumble upon their society and
are shocked by the different culture these women have.
A prominent aspect
of this fictional culture is that the women do not exploit animals for food or
labor. In one section of the text, the male visitors ask where the women get
milk without cows, and a woman tells them that they rely on their own milk.
When the man tells her about the way his society farms cattle for milk, the
woman is shocked by this exploitation of female animals and their babies. So in
1915, Gilman is laying out the ethics behind feminist veganism which are still
considered radical and fringe, today.
Besides Herland, here is one poem Gilman wrote on
the topic of the treatment of nonhuman animals (specifically cattle being
raised for meat).
THE CATTLE TRAIN
Below my window goes the cattle train,
And stands for hours along the river park,
Fear, Cold, Exhaustion, Hunger, Thirst and
Pain;
Dumb brutes we call them - Hark!
The bleat of frightened mother -calling young,
Deep-throated agony, shrill frantic cries,
Hoarse murmur of the thirst-distended tongue
Up to my window rise.
Bleak lies the shore to northern wind and sleet,
In open-slatted cars they stand and freeeze
Beside the broad blue river in the heat
All waterless go these.
Hot, fevered, frightened, trampled, bruised
and torn;
Frozen to death before the ax descends;
We kill these weary creatures; sore and worn,
And eat them-- with our friends.
-Charlotte Perkins Gilman-
Below my window goes the cattle train,
And stands for hours along the river park,
Fear, Cold, Exhaustion, Hunger, Thirst and
Pain;
Dumb brutes we call them - Hark!
The bleat of frightened mother -calling young,
Deep-throated agony, shrill frantic cries,
Hoarse murmur of the thirst-distended tongue
Up to my window rise.
Bleak lies the shore to northern wind and sleet,
In open-slatted cars they stand and freeeze
Beside the broad blue river in the heat
All waterless go these.
Hot, fevered, frightened, trampled, bruised
and torn;
Frozen to death before the ax descends;
We kill these weary creatures; sore and worn,
And eat them-- with our friends.
-Charlotte Perkins Gilman-
Percy Shelley (1792-1822) was an ethical
vegetarian powerhouse, and wrote priceless poetry as well as prose on the
subject. Thanks to him, we have a wonderfully articulate record of the thought
process amongst ethical vegetarians of his era. His wife and collaborator, Mary
Wollstonecraft Shelley, wrote “Frankenstein, Or, the Modern-day Prometheus”
with Percy’s support and with these vegetarian ideas that they shared as the
philosophical foundation for the entire story.
The full
text of his “Vindication of a Natural Diet” (1813) can be found at http://www.animalrightshistory.org/animal-rights-c1785-1837/romantic-s/she-percy-shelley/1813-queen-mab.htm
But
I have sampled from it below:
Man at his creation was endowed with the
gift of perpetual youth; that is, he was not formed to be a sickly suffering
creature as we now see him, but to enjoy health, and to sink by slow degrees
into the bosom of his parent earth without disease or pain. Prometheus first
taught the use of animal food (primus
bovem occidit Prometheus1) and of fire, with which to render
it more digestible and pleasing to the taste. Jupiter, and the rest of the
gods, foreseeing the consequences of the inventions, were amused or irritated
at the short-sighted devices of the newly-formed creature, and left him to
experience the sad effects of them. Thirst, the necessary concomitant of a
flesh diet,” (perhaps of all diet vitiated by culinary preparation) “ensued;
water was resorted to, and man forfeited the inestimable gift of health which
he had received from heaven: he became diseased, the partaker of a precarious
existence, and no longer descended slowly to his grave” (pp. 8-9 ).
But
just disease to luxury succeeds,
And
every death its own avenger breeds;
The
fury passions from that blood began,
And
turned on man a fiercer savage - Man.
Man, and the animals whom he has infected with his society, or
depraved by his dominion, are alone diseased. The wild hog, the mouflon, the
bison, and the wolf, are perfectly exempt from malady, and invariably die
either from external violence, or natural old age. But the domestic hog, the
sheep, the cow, and the dog, are subject to an incredible variety of
distempers; and, like the corrupters of their nature, have physicians who
thrive upon their miseries. The supereminence of man is like Satan's, a
supereminence of pain; and the majority of his species, doomed to penury ,
disease, and crime, have reason to curse the untoward event, that by enabling
him to communicate his sensations, raised him above the level of his fellow
animals. But the steps that have been taken are irrevocable. The whole of human
science is comprised in one question: - How can the advantages of intellect and
civilization, be reconciled with the liberty and pure pleasures of natural
life? How can we take the benefits, and reject the evils of the system, which
is now interwoven with all the fibres of our being? - I believe that abstinence
from animal food and spirituous liquors, would in a great measure capacitate us
for the solution of this important question.
Another
website has given an excellent summary of Shelley’s vegetarian themes in
different bodies of work (http://www.think-differently-about-sheep.com/Animal%20Rights%20A%20History%20Percy%20Bysshe%20Shelly.htm) which includes this clip from Shelley’s
best known poem with vegetarian themes, “Queen Mab” (book eight):
How strange is human pride!
I tell thee that those living things,
To whom the fragile blade of grass,
That springeth in the morn
And perisheth ere noon,
Is an unbounded world;
I tell thee that those viewless beings,
Whose mansion is the smallest particle
Of the impassive atmosphere,
Think, feel, and live like man;
That their affections and antipathies,
Like his, produce the Laws
Ruling their moral state;
And the minutest throb
That through their frame diffuses
The slightest, faintest motion,
Is fixed and indispensable
As the majestic laws
That rule yon rolling orbs. (21)
Immortal upon Earth: No longer now,
He slays the lamb that looks him in the face,
And horribly devours his mangled flesh,
Which, still avenging nature's broken law,
Kindled all putrid humours in his frame,
All evil passions, and all vain belief,
Hatred, despair, and loathing in his mind,
The germs of misery, death, disease, and crime. (59)
No longer now the winged habitants,
That in the woods their sweet lives sing away,
Flee from the form of man; but gather round,
And prune their sunny feathers on the hands
Which little children stretch in friendly sport
Towards these dreadless partners of their play.
All things are void of terror: man has lost
His terrible prerogative, and stands
An equal amidst equals: happiness
And science dawn though late, upon the earth;
Peace cheers the mind, health renovates the frame;
Disease and pleasure cease to mingle here,
Reason and passion cease to combat there;
Whilst each unfettered o'er the earth extends
Their all-subduing energies, and wield
The sceptre of a vast dominion there;
Whilst every shape and mode of matter lends
Its force to the omnipotence of mind,
Which from its dark mine drags the gem of truth
To decorate its paradise of peace. (59)
George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)
was a prolific Irish playwright, who also wrote great essays and poems. He was
a long-time vegetarian, as well as an activist using his writing to combat
blood sports, vivisection, and general trends of animal exploitation. Here are a couple of quotes from him (I found
at: http://www.ivu.org/history/shaw/vegetarianism.html) that give you the picture:
“A dinner!
How horrible!
I am to be made the pretext for killing all those wretched animals and birds, and fish! Thank you for nothing.
Now if it were to be a fast instead of a feast; say a solemn three days' abstention from corpses in my honour, I could at least pretend to believe that it was disinterested.
Blood sacrifices are not in my line.”
- Letter 30 December 1929
How horrible!
I am to be made the pretext for killing all those wretched animals and birds, and fish! Thank you for nothing.
Now if it were to be a fast instead of a feast; say a solemn three days' abstention from corpses in my honour, I could at least pretend to believe that it was disinterested.
Blood sacrifices are not in my line.”
- Letter 30 December 1929
“I was told that my diet was so poor that I could
not repair the bones that were broken and operated on. So I have just had an
Xradiograph taken; and lo! perfectly mended solid bone so beautifully white
that I have left instructions that, if I die, a glove stretcher is to be made
of me and sent to you as a souvenir.” - Letter to Mrs.Patrick Campbell
Archibald Henderson,
author of a three-volume biography of Shaw, recorded an appropriate
conversation with him in 1924, when Shaw was already sixty-eight; it appears in
Table-Talks, a colection illustrating the outspoken and witty side of the
prolific playwright:
Henderson: So be a good fellow and tell me how you
succeeded in remaining so youthful.
Shaw: I don't. I look my age; and I am my age. It is the other people who look older than they are. What can you expect from people who eat corpses and drink spirits?
Henderson: Our time is running short. You will have to be off to speak on behalf of the Labor Party, or Vegetarianism, or Communism, or Fabianism, or what not. You are such an incorrigible publicist that I have not yet got round to literature, or to drama which is popularly supposed to be one of your chief interests.
Shaw: I don't. I look my age; and I am my age. It is the other people who look older than they are. What can you expect from people who eat corpses and drink spirits?
Henderson: Our time is running short. You will have to be off to speak on behalf of the Labor Party, or Vegetarianism, or Communism, or Fabianism, or what not. You are such an incorrigible publicist that I have not yet got round to literature, or to drama which is popularly supposed to be one of your chief interests.
The below poem is
attributed to him, though it’s origin within his career is unknown, so some
people dispute it’s authenticity. Either way, numerous quotes from Shaw in
other realms show that this poem is completely within the context of his
beliefs.
We Are The
Living Graves Of Murdered Beasts
We
are the living graves of murdered beasts
Slaughtered
to satisfy our appetites
We
never pause to wonder at our feasts
If
animals, like men, can possibly have rights
We
pray on Sundays that we may have light
To
guide our footsteps on the path we tread
We're
sick of war
We
do not want to fight
The
thought of it now fills our hearts with dread
And
yet we gorge ourselves upon the dead
Like
carrion crows we live and feed on meat
Regardless
of the suffering and pain
We
cause by doing so.
If
thus we treat Defenseless animals for sport or gain
How
can we hope in this world to attain the
PEACE
we say we are so anxious for
We
pray for it o'er hecatombs of slain
To
God, while outraging the moral law
Thus
cruelty begets its offspring: war.
Another major writer and thinker who
deserves a place here is William Blake (1757-1827). Much like the others
mentioned here, Blake used his artistry and his public profile to speak out
against the issues of his time affecting non-human animals, especially
meat-eating and blood-sports. His very famous poem “Auguries of Innocence”
speaks in great detail of his concerns for other creatures. Most people only
know the first four lines, probably because the animal-rights message is
uncomfortable to many readers.
Auguries of
Innocence
To
see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all heaven in a Rage.
A dove house fill’d with doves and Pigeons
Shudders Hell thro’ all its regions.
A dog starv’d at his Master’s Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State.
A Horse misus’d upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear.
A Skylark wounded in the wing,
A Cherubim does cease to sing.
The Game Cock clip’d and arm’d for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright.
Every Wolf’s and Lion’s howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul.
The wild deer, wand’ring here and there,
Keeps the Human Soul from Care.
The Lamb misus’d breeds Public strife
And yet forgives the Butcher’s Knife.
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that won’t Believe.
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbeliever’s fright.
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belov’d by Men.
He who the Ox to wrath has mov’d
Shall never be by Woman lov’d.
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spider’s enmity.
He who torments the Chafer’s sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night.
The Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mother’s grief.
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly,
For the Last Judgement draweth nigh.
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar.
The Beggar’s Dog and Widow’s Cat,
Feed them and thou wilt grow fat.
The Gnat that sings his Summer’s song
Poison gets from Slander’s tongue.
The poison of the Snake and Newt
Is the sweat of Envy’s Foot.
The Poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artist’s Jealousy.
The Prince’s Robes and Beggar’s Rags
Are Toadstools on the Miser’s Bags.
A truth that’s told with bad intent.
Beats all the Lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for Joy and Woe;
And when this we rightly know
Thro’ the World we safely go.
Joy and Woe are woven fine,
A Clothing for the Soul divine;
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The Babe is more than swaddling Bands;
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made, and Born were hands,
Every Farmer Understands.
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity;
This is caught by Females bright
And return’d to its own delight.
The Bleat, the Bark, Bellow and Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heaven’s Shore.
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of death.
The Beggar’s Rags, fluttering in Air,
Does to Rags the Heavens tear.
The Soldier, arm’d, with Sword and Gun,
Palsied strikes the Summer’s Sun.
The poor Man’s Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Afric’s Shore.
One Mite wrung from the Labrer’s hands
Shall buy and sell the Miser’s Lands:
Or, if protected from on high,
Does that whole Nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the Infant’s Faith
Shall be mock’d in Age and Death.
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall ne’er get out.
He who respects the Infant’s faith
Triumphs over Hell and Death.
The Child’s Toys and the Old Man’s Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons.
The Questioner, who sits so sly,
Shall never know how to Reply.
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out.
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesar’s Laurel Crown.
Nought can deform the Human Race
Like to the Armour’s iron brace.
When Gold and Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow.
A Riddle or the Cricket’s Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply.
The Emmet’s Inch and Eagle’s Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile.
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will ne’er Believe, do what you Please.
If the Sun and Moon should doubt,
They’d immediately Go out.
To be in a Passion you Good may do,
But no Good if a Passion is in you.
The Whore and Gambler, by the State
Licenc’d, build that Nation’s Fate.
The Harlot’s cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old England’s winding Sheet.
The Winner’s Shout, the Loser’s Curse,
Dance before dead England’s Hearse.
Every Night and every Morn
Some to Misery are Born.
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight.
Some are Born to sweet delight,
Some are Born to Endless Night.
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro’ the Eye,
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light.
God Appears and God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night,
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day.
And here are some other poems along
these themes that I have stumbled upon. I hope you like them, and are inspired
to find (and write) more!
A MODERN GOLDEN CALF (reproduced by the Millennium
Guild)
-Earnest A Webbe-
In Cleveland's toughtest quarter,
The famous "Tenderloin"
(Fit namesake for the choicest cut
Of steak for honest coin)
Where dives and tough resorts abound,
Saloons and salry brokers,
Gambling joints and "uncle shops"
And homes for highway chokers,
You'll find a building tall and square
Low'ring o'er the railroad,
Which brings from peaceful pastures fair,
Poor creatures by the trainload;
A smell of blood makes thick the air,
Mute terror in each creature's stare-
Brute men running everywhere,
Their robes with blood aglare!
And on the building's lofty roof,
Like Aaron's calf of old
There rears, that every eye may see
A steer of burnished gold!
For ever this sacrifice goes on
And Christians bend the knee
Nor stop to think their honest coin
Sustains idolatry!
-Earnest A Webbe-
-Earnest A Webbe-
In Cleveland's toughtest quarter,
The famous "Tenderloin"
(Fit namesake for the choicest cut
Of steak for honest coin)
Where dives and tough resorts abound,
Saloons and salry brokers,
Gambling joints and "uncle shops"
And homes for highway chokers,
You'll find a building tall and square
Low'ring o'er the railroad,
Which brings from peaceful pastures fair,
Poor creatures by the trainload;
A smell of blood makes thick the air,
Mute terror in each creature's stare-
Brute men running everywhere,
Their robes with blood aglare!
And on the building's lofty roof,
Like Aaron's calf of old
There rears, that every eye may see
A steer of burnished gold!
For ever this sacrifice goes on
And Christians bend the knee
Nor stop to think their honest coin
Sustains idolatry!
-Earnest A Webbe-
ODE TO THE POOR MAN'S CRICKET
Although they steal my food
within the walls of my humble home
I endeavor never to be rude
And when I outen the lights
These peaceful creatures are free to roam
For even the meek
have their rights
-Tom Earley-
Although they steal my food
within the walls of my humble home
I endeavor never to be rude
And when I outen the lights
These peaceful creatures are free to roam
For even the meek
have their rights
-Tom Earley-
OF JOY AND RODENTS
Who is to say that being here is not glorious even
In the most squalid of existence; even in the streets
Festering with garbage, being here is a joyous thing.
Tell the blind woman, blind since birth, that joy is non
Existent; her hyper-extended senses would tell you that
She sensed and loved the tiny feet of mice eating her cheese.
The most visible of happiness occurs when, without the
Expectation of result, something explicable happens; and
That is, the unexpected joy that Sisyphus could not imagine.
For all the rats eating our grain and causing continual
Scourges, they teach us to value life as they endure the
Hatred and interminable tortures of laboratory animals.
Our age builds an enormous citadel of power; formless as
The extensive stress it exacts on us. It no longer respects any
Temples; however, the rat teaches us the temple of survival
The whole family of rodentia is our guru; from rabbits we
Learn to spawn our progeny; from squirrels we learn to
Economize in lean times and from mice we learn humility.
Their veins flow with existence without a Bill of Rights;
What makes us think that we have more entitlements; let
Us love our rodent brothers and chew on life as they do.
-Sai Grafio-
http://www.postpoems.com/members/kittymonkey
Who is to say that being here is not glorious even
In the most squalid of existence; even in the streets
Festering with garbage, being here is a joyous thing.
Tell the blind woman, blind since birth, that joy is non
Existent; her hyper-extended senses would tell you that
She sensed and loved the tiny feet of mice eating her cheese.
The most visible of happiness occurs when, without the
Expectation of result, something explicable happens; and
That is, the unexpected joy that Sisyphus could not imagine.
For all the rats eating our grain and causing continual
Scourges, they teach us to value life as they endure the
Hatred and interminable tortures of laboratory animals.
Our age builds an enormous citadel of power; formless as
The extensive stress it exacts on us. It no longer respects any
Temples; however, the rat teaches us the temple of survival
The whole family of rodentia is our guru; from rabbits we
Learn to spawn our progeny; from squirrels we learn to
Economize in lean times and from mice we learn humility.
Their veins flow with existence without a Bill of Rights;
What makes us think that we have more entitlements; let
Us love our rodent brothers and chew on life as they do.
-Sai Grafio-
http://www.postpoems.com/members/kittymonkey
And what of current poets? One
writer who does great poetry about animals and our relationship to them is
Gretchen Primack. She has a book of
poetry on the topic called, “Kind.” You can find more info about Gretchen and
her work at her website:
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