All of God's creatures have rights, a fact that most people don't seem to recognize.
This includes both human and non-human animals, but not all of them can speak for themselves.
He Honors His Father
Dedicated to Jason, who at a very young age, in farm country and never
having heard of vegetarianism, refused to ever eat meat again when he was
told where it came from after losing his treasured calf to the
This poem may be reprinted at any time by anyone, without permission.
Remember our times under the aging apple, Pop,
When you were out cutting hay
And Ma would send me up with your lunch?
How all the cows would lie with us under that dying tree
Whose fewer leaves each year provided less and less shade
But all the comforts of familiarity?
I remember the year you decided that Strawberry
Wasn't earning her keep anymore;
How, when the truck came to take her,
You had to pry me from her neck,
How she called to us as they drove away.
You explained to me then about slaughterhouses and profits,
And how the fact that Strawberry had spent her whole life giving us all the milk she could
Had no bearing in the ledger book;
How slaughterhouses were never meant to be cruel
But only turned out that way
Because making a profit requires expediency.
You thought you had to be rock hard, Pop,
To help me face the world;
You made me stand like a man
And accept reality.
I just didn't want it to be so violent;
If Strawberry had to die,
I wanted her to lie down one day
Under the old apple,
To lay her head on the grass beside us
And not wake up.
But you told me to accept the world as it was.
A lot of years later,
In a hospital after your heart attack,
A doctor told me you were feeling well enough
To have a little ice cream,
And I thought to myself
That you were in another kind of slaughterhouse;
But I accepted the world as it was.
You hadn't been home long
When your heart attacked you again,
Ma woke us all and we gathered around your bed.
I wanted to sit with you quietly,
But the ambulance crew pushed through and took you,
Laid you on the floor in a circle of machines and men in blue on their knees,
Pounding you hard on the chest.
If you had to die. Pop,
I didn't want it to be so violent
Or so soon.
You never got to meet my friend Angie
Or hear her ideas about veganism;
Would you have wanted to hear?
I stood like a man
When the undertaker came to take you,
And I accepted your reality.
But later Angie and I planted a young apple
over your fresh grave,
and vowed that for the family we were planning,
We'd create a new reality.
The author was a pre-vet student, but dropped out of school the week before having to watch the upperclassmen practice on living animals. Most of her poems are auto-biographical.
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