Walking haystack

Lichen convoy donkey-style
Jean Grace Pedelty Wed, 16/07/2014 - 08:28

I am a walking haystack in
war-torn Afghanistan.
Weighed down with hay, I have to trot
as quickly as I can.

My head and back are swamped with hay,
and I can hardly see.
My donkey heart yearns for someone,
who will be kind to me.

I suffer heat and sands that sting,
when desert whirlwinds blow.
Starvation and harsh whacks from sticks
I have to undergo.

Some friends of mine were tied to trees,
and in their carts of hay
were deadly rocket launchers, all
primed to explode that day.

I dream of finding fresh sweet grass,
and water, when I can,
but I’m a walking haystack in
war torn Afghanistan.

I have always been deeply upset by cruelty to animals of all kinds. My inspiration to write came from seeing TV news pictures from Afghanistan showing photos of poor struggling donkeys carrying massive loads of hay, their weak little legs giving way. Information about the rocket launchers came from research on the Internet.


© All rights reserved by Christophe Cerisier
Permission has kindly been given to use this photograph.

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Jenny L. Bates's picture

There are days when one's beliefs are not enough to sustain you. On these days think of the 'Walking Haystacks' and though their world is shaking with sorrow, their sure feet and bravest of hearts are the Truth. Thank you for this clear, proper and very Donkey poem.

Jenny L. Bates's picture

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