The Cage - Photo by JoAnne McArthur |
Photo by JoAnne McArthur We Animals

I’d like to

feel the sun on my back, the wind ruffle my hair.

Taste the rain as it wash my face,

‘n breath crisp morning air.

Hear the crunch of frost beneath my feet,

as I wander here ‘n there.

Then lay in a field of summer rye,

‘n watch cornflowers bloom,

. . . wither, then die.

Count stars,

while the moon glides by.


to welcome the day,

‘n say to the night,

Thank you.

But fate is hard, and weary I grow;

for torments by day ‘n agonies slow.

Yet one hope remain,

despite this pain . . . .

’tis the white,

The White Light.

‘n find long last,

that all has past . . .

I into White.

—Factory Farmed Animal

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