In hiding from the truth,
Saving face behind darkened blinds,
Killers with the pen uncouth,
Near their desks you’ll find,
Megaphones in hand, and placards tall,
Old and young and very young,
Shouting help for whales they call,
All but fifty strong,
Guards and trucks and Mounties too,
Strong brick walls and fences,
Some, we sure got through,
Wore down some of their defences,
Small sound bites, their actions chides,
Coward actions on the sea,
In small staccato bites,
These whales belong to me,
My children and then theirs,
They don’t belong to you,
We the world is heirs,
The unkind things you do,
Send your boats were they belong,
Harbour them at home
Bring them home to old Japon,
And leave our whales alone.©14/01/2010
Love
Eileen
Regis
And I very sadly doubt, it will ever change until there are no creatures left to be cruel towards.
This entire subject distresses me so much I can't even watch nature documentaries any more, and I have a very low opinion of those 'presenters' who handle animals, literally pull them out of their habitats and comfort for their cameras - shame on them; that of course is a pet hate and your humane, elegant poem goes far beyond and above.
Bless you for this, Compassionate Man!
John
Georg