A Mother Named 940

Posted on March 4, 2022

Animal Activist and poet Monika Arya had a brief encounter with a mother pig on her way to slaughter, and left a trace of kindness in a pain-filled life.

 

Meet a mother named 940

Womb weakened

Spirit eroded

Her boys turned to bacon

Girls glued to gestation crates

Bear witness to this sow

She had to see her babies smashed against concrete

The rest carted away

Never to be seen again

Here, today

On this day

Everyday

Lorries roll nonstop on highways

Hauling torn families

Labelled โ€“ โ€˜livestockโ€™

Cars hastily overtake

Trying to outrun the streaming stench

Burrito with bodies buried

They happily munch

Un-hearing the heart wrenching cries

Unseeing the peering eyes

Desperately wanting out

Despondent, desolate

Not wanting to die

Through the bars

I try to reach her

Leave a touch of kindness

Pink skin – gnawed, raw, inflamed

Poked by rusty hooks, electric prodders and rakes

Covering her soft body

Hairs were bristly tough

Life way harder

Death brutal as hell

Obsessive knives slice through

Truck loads of heaving bodies

Like a chefโ€™s knife whizz through chives

Except, she is a mother named 940

And her babies

Her brothers

Her sisters

All numbered like her

Countless before her

Countless after her

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