The news said one brave cow lead others cows on a stampede escape
from the slaughter house they were headed to.
I stand in the grocery store eyeing the Filet Mignon and think
about those cows trying to save their lives, knowing the fate
human beings had planned for them.
I purchase the Filet Mignon.
I prepare it for the broiler on the stove top first, braising both seasoned sides then in the oven it goes.
Asparagus.
Colorful cauliflower.
Yet, a few forkfuls and my eating some meat
some but also vegetarian meals and I stop
I think about the lucky cow someone kind adopted and
then the others led back to a fate worse than hell.
The food goes to the trash and thus, I am
less plagued by the sounds of suffering,
the lowing and bellows of resistance.
They knew where they were going.
Thus it became not a simple act of procuring food but
slaughter in even a more true sense.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem