Friday, 15 November 2019

Some days don't go as well as they could ...

There are days that just don't go as well as they could. When a series of events fall like badly laid dominoes with hitches in the patterns. When the outside world seems a little too cruel to contend with, or the locals have made one comment to much. A lorry went past today, a cattle lorry that is used to take them to slaughter. We see them all the time when we are out and about , three or four on every journey we take. I try not to look, but my eyes are inevitably drawn to the faces in the gaps. The reason I try not to look is that it cuts my soul to shreds. I feel bereft in my uselessness to stop the conveyor belt of carnage. The lorry today was going past the sanctuary. I was minding my own business, cleaning out some flower pots when the stench hit me. There is nothing quite as awful as blood and excrement mixed with fear sweat. I held my flower pot close to me for comfort, rocking it as if it were a baby. Shaking with the futility of my situation.
As these lorries roll on by with soft noses pressed to the gaps, or with necks strained so that the people inside can see the outside. I feel crushed. It is heartbreak, horror, anger and a deep melancholy all rolled together. A feeling so pronounced that it clings around my oesophagus like a serpent. There is nothing more I can do to try and stop this from happening.
I walked into the garden with no energy even to cry. A feeling of being a husk blown on the dusty breeze, my body following my feet. All I wanted was to see my family, those that I had managed to swipe away from those blasted lorries. All the pigs and sheep ran to say hello, head leans and kisses shared. Yet still I felt empty as I wandered down to the shelter tree and sat on the fresh Timothy hay. Little Bean and Bess came swiftly to lay on me. Lilly was different. She approached and standing over me cast her yellow gaze. She then leaned her head with all her strength onto my forehead, it was a little uncomfortable, then stared at me again and repeated the process, pushing me down. So I finally listened and layed down, to be honest I didn't have the energy to resist. She then pushed her head onto my breast plate, it hurt and I asked her to stop. I didn't need to be hurt. I tried to push her away, but she looked her look and then started again. It became very painful and I started to cry. As soon as my first tear fell, Lilly stopped and turned, her little hairy chin resting on my head. My crying turned into full blown sobs as the images of the truck hit home. Lilly put her soft cheek next to mine and then turned and sat. Pushing me towards Little Bean with her chest. My sobs squashed between a pig and a sheep person. They stayed with me like that, the three of us under the shelter tree. My face covered in Timothy hay and dried tears, nestled into the comforting warmth of Lily, while she rested her head on me. The contented snores of Little Bean behind me and her warmth at my back. Lilly knew I needed to cry, even if I didn't. There is no doubt in my mind , as the pain she created acted as a catalyst for the pain that was suffocating me inside.
If only every human could listen and hear them when they talk to us, the other folk. If only every human could feel their love and their compassion. They give it freely if we care to listen and take time to hear them. They communicate so profoundly at times, I am left speechless at the depth of human ignorance. Why are we so quick to judge them as "lesser" than us, just because we do not have the capacity to understand them? We are so arrogant that we miss the beauty of the world in which we live. As we stomp and use everything and everyone in our path. Please stop and listen, please stop those trucks filling with beautiful, sentient individuals. They all would take time to reach out and try and make us understand if we were to just give them a chance.

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