Yulin

When I see the dogs in Yulin,
Boiled alive, or skinned alive, or beaten to death,
The horror of it brings my lost children to mind.
There are no words to convey
On how I miss their eyes and presence.
Animals by far are the most giving
Of their time and their love.
I ask people who profess love
To show intimacy;
But their time demands more passion
And all my children needed was my time.
Their time alive was encompassed intimacy
And so dreadfully short.
I wonder why cruelty
Becomes a palate for cuisine?
Doesn’t grace justify a quick death?
Why must consciousness be alive,
When it is dunked into boiling water?
What feast can be derived from that?
I have protected dogs. I am a father.
I have nurtured dogs. I am a mother.
I have wept at their death.
I am a parent.
To say that each life is important,
That might is right is important,
That the circle of life is important,
Is true and the world exists.
But the lion doesn’t boil its prey,
The shark doesn’t skin its food.
The law has to abide.
We all must die.
But we pray for a quick death.
A silent death, as part of sleep,
Why then do we, as the sapient ones,
Deny that death in these feasts?
I cannot justify cruelty.
I will condemn torture.
I loved Bonzo, Diana, Rolfe and Zoe:
Lights in my life.
They burned so bright, I was happy blind;
But when one faced torture,
When their need overruled my own,
I bought an end to my blindness.
I was death. I was the dark.
And this is all that I ask for;
It is not in my power
To ask for any more:
Stop cruelty to those who cannot fight back,
Show mercy,
Be no greater than or lesser than
What you are:
Human.

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