Have a thought for me.
I do not share the warmth of your festive fire
Or dwell in delight
Of children’s giggles
And adult mirth.
I am awaiting an end
To suffering.
For peace at last,
For sovereignty,
And human realisation.
I feel.
I cringe from fist.
I seek the comfort of kin.
I do not want to feel terror at the end.
There is no celebration for us.
Animal commodity.
Object.
Festive stuffed.
Unholy.
We screech, squeal and bellow
Against you.
I do not seek to fatten your Christmas table.
I seek my kind
And gentle freedom.
Emboldened fresh wind
And wildness unbound.
Let the nights no longer be silent
For us.
Species – all.
Let the darkness
Rattle with the thrum of human guilt.
Let revelation of our self-hood
Haunt your dreams,
Amidst twinkling lights,
And silent mockery.
Let there be kindness and hope
For all creatures of this world.
© 2024 J.H. Dickinson
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