Any Less Of A Mortal Poem by Francis Duggan

From the dead sheep in the hot sun the stench of death rise
She has been the victim of female blow flies
The white maggots of their eggs eat the flesh of decay
The poor thing did die in the most painful way.

Yet is she any less of a mortal than i?
For me to say otherwise would be a lie
Unmourned by the farmer and unmourned by her kin
Yet to live till she died has been her only sin.

The young of those who killed her thrive on rotting meat
What seems repulsive to us to them tastes so sweet
One cannot help but think that this is Nature's way
That some young lives do thrive on the stench of decay.

The sun shining bright in the bright Summer sky
Whilst the kin of the dead sheep are grazing nearby
Unaware that death too on them does await
Though they and their dead flock member may not have the same fate.

Bits of her wool scattered around where she lay
In the bare and brown paddock just off of the highway
A victim of blow flies a painful way to die
Yet is she any less of a mortal than i?