Monday 20th February 2012 8:20 pm
I’ll set the scene ‘the slaughter house’
The noise, the smell, the blood, the flies,
And in this reek I walked and woke,
To see where all compassion dies.
And in a pen, alone aloof,
A great old bull a mighty mound,
Who stood and watched and waited death,
But offered not a single sound.
This once proud heap, this thing of flesh,
Had been a king among his kind,
But here alone with lowered head,
Wide empty eyes and emptied mind.
My soul told him to strike and fight,
To die with pride, to rave and rage,
And stand against the will of men,
Who brought him to this bitter cage.
They killed him while I stood and watched,
Just fit for dog food I was told,
Will this be me I contemplate,
Now I am weak, now I am old.
For fifty years he’s touched my heart,
A beast that showed a way to truth,
Who helped me find a way to live,
But brought an end to treasured youth.