Last time period done 350,000 of us were put to death
clubbed or shot, hunters in perpetuity took away our breath
Close to our mothers, fictitious there in the snow
Copys:we were but babes and we could not know
When archetypal we glimpsed the ships on the body of water cold
we were unafraid, not reasoning they'd be so bold
But onto the ice and through with our house the men strode
breaching our nursery, and ingoing our family fold
As they approached we looked on, incompetent to understand
the expressions on their faces, the arms in their hands
At preliminary we didn't stir, but afterwards the men toward us ran
it vigorously became a slay and we were the lambs
This was our archetypal revelation to humans, staffs and guns
as we looked up, they like greased lightning stricken us with their clubs
Some of us didn't die from the blows-we were lone stunned
our whist motionless hammering as they abraded us, spilling our blood
Later, the parents or fastening babies who managed to survive
moved on the ice and ruby snow, in disbelief, and cried
Grieving for the lost ones whose fur-less bodies lay so still
not knowing if the mankind would be back, or if they'd had their pack...
To a future, where "their fill" is departed and past
a security interest to break the killing, an swearing that will end.
Copyright 2007 Kathy Pippig Harris
If you would like to help, the Humane Society of the United States is a suitable establishment.