Lost

Finally, Journey's end. My darkest day. I want to cry out but my throat is dry Terror buckles my legs, as we are herded out. Fear shouts we are doomed cargo. I am in my prime a lady's hack. I was not prepared for this day, so black. I struggle against the hooves of terrified beasts. The young still struggle, Full of fire. Whilst the weak Gently expire Weary! I find comfort now in the closeness of the others. Belly next to belly, heart next to heart. Heads bowed. LOST! Death beckons. Pushed forward to face my fate. I look into unfeeling eyes And wait. I dedicate this poem to the poor horses that have to endure terrible suffering on long haul journeys to foreign slaughter houses. They have not committed any crime and are often put down inhumanely. Such beautiful creatures and what an ugly way to die.