by Fran Hutcherson -
In the aftermath of September Eleventh
From our laboratory cages, we see a huge cloud of smoke
and soot fast approaching. Cover your faces, quick! Strange substances
in the eyes are incredibly painful and can make you blind.
From the slaughterhouse, we hear, for the first time,
what YOU sound like screaming in terror as you see others dying all
around you, knowing that you are next.
From endless rows of stacked-up battery cages, we cry
for those of you who remain alive inside, crushed together in tiny
spaces, wondering if you will ever move freely again.
From metal gestation crates, we mourn for the young who
will grow up without their mothers' love, and for the mothers whose
babies have been ripped away from them forever.
From radios and televisions, we hear you sharing your
grief and pain and promising your loved ones that they will never be
forgotten. We hear angry voices promising to avenge the evil and make
sure it never happens again.
From every factory farm, research lab, circus truck and
slaughterhouse, we hear your cries as you experience what, for us, is
Will you ever hear ours?
Go on to Taking
Compassion To New Levels
Return to 26 September 2001 Issue
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