J.H. DickinsonPoetry, Essays and Art By J.H. Dickinson from All-Creatures.org

Don't close the doors

Donít close the doors
Vent the space
Let in the honesty
The revulsion seeping out
The stink
The horror
The choked feeling of surreal abandonment

Donít hide the control
The fencing that curves to prevent the view ahead
The dead
The blood-spattered space
The sticky mess, entrails without tails

Let the wind blow through
Words formed in honest simple tones
Different shades from red
Respect the dead

Let such places be relics, disregarded humanism, speciesism
Let them crumble, tattered, forgotten museum pieces,
metal, stone, wood, white tiled
Blood memory-floods

Donít overlook your part
Alongside, in oblivion
Alongside, inspecting and silent
Alongside, screaming and sacrificing the self
Blood to bone they shared in our life
Born but not fully allowed to live, to be unrealised
Merely an idea of a non-human animal
An idea of a pig, chicken, cow, calf, sheep, duck, gooseÖ
An onward list of feeling flesh

Our claim, our prime cut, leg of, liver of, skin
Our selfish, violent, greed, self-driven, gruesome distortions

Open the doors and let the wind blow through
Let the post humanist-human breathe in relief
Of retribution
Of reconciliation
Of silent vigil
Of peace
Of what has been and will be

Lisa Dickinson
Art © L. Dickinson

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