Animal Rights Poetry
Moo-ving people toward compassionate living
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By Diane Brown
Submitted by the author - 28 Aug 2004
Such a cruel sentence for a baby hen
Her little feet sore from the wire clad pen.
She needs some comfort, like all babies do,
not in a cage with a frightening view!
Her brother is scared, with no place to hide,
come rest by her shoulder, lean by her side.
In life, the only comfort they'll ever know,
together in prison, before they grow.
She'll nuzzle her sibling, for in just weeks
men will pluck them apart, cut off their beaks.
Stacked in a building, crushed to a stranger,
fearing each day her life is in danger.
Yearning for soil to scratch looking for things,
no room to lay down, or stretch out her wings.
In brief slumber waves of life in her dream
of chicks through sun fields, to drink from a stream.
Then, awake, to the din, lights that won't dim,
thoughts of brother, and what happened to him?
No babies for her! No sweet grass filled nest!
No guardian rooster with bright red crest.
Wings beat the hand that deems her fate dire,
cuts her body, labels her a fryer.
Pity her life in a factory farm.
She deserved to live free, and flee from harm!
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