Did you know my mother?
I’m told her name was Belle.
I don’t know what she looked like
but have memories of her smell.
Did you ever hear my mother?
Did her cries pull at your heart?
I remember them quite clearly
when the men pulled us apart.
Did you drink from my mother?
Did you ever taste her milk?
Did you feel her face against yours?
Was her skin as soft as silk?
I’ve been told I had two brothers
and my sisters numbered four
then my mother went to slaughter
of no value anymore.
Were you there with my mother?
Did you look into her eyes?
Did you see the fear within them?
Did you listen to her cries?
And now my end is coming
I am waiting with my friends
we are huddled close together
in this place where life ends.
Will you be there at our slaughter
for the flesh you want to eat?
Will you ever think about us
when you buy that piece of meat?
It’s my turn now, I’m moving.
I am going to my end.
I am urged with shouts and kicking
and with sticks that never bend.
I am thinking of my mother
and remembering her smell
and I know we’ll meet in heaven
and forget this life in Hell.
Photo by Jo-Anne McArthur, The Hidden Lives Of Dairy Cows, An Untold Story of Dairy Production
Info:
- Οι μητέρες που δεν γιορτάζουν ποτέ: Ιστορίες χωρίς φωνή από τον Πέτρο Κατσάκο
- Η σκοτεινή αλήθεια της γαλακτοβιομηχανίας: ethosandempathy
- Αγελάδες γαλακτοπαραγωγής: 269lifegreece
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