Bunny, by Anne Copeland
I was filled with grief
When I discovered the poor dog
Lying outside in the mud, rain pouring down
An empty jug where the dog was chained.
Ribs and hip bones standing out as if you had been months without food.
Sacred being, how could they defile you in this manner?
How could they forget that you needed love the same as everyone?
How could they simply treat you as if you were no more than a rock.
I wanted to go and bang on their windows until they came outside,
I worked on the collar that the chain was attached to
Until it was open
And I picked you up
Carried you home
And loved you every single day
Through the last day of your life.
You are sacred, you are loved
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