The lamb, having no appetite for meat,
Does not suspect the wolf.
The wolf, moved by strange hunger,
Eternally suspicious,
Thinks the lamb a hypocrite.
Surely only the self-righteous
Play the public vegetarian?
How shall sheep refute an accusation
We do not even understand?
Our ways are not their ways,
Our hungers not their hungers.
We are black sheep, we have strayed.
We are not wolves.
Clarity of language
Is always the first casualty.
Imbalance of power
Hides dark in the long grasses.
The lamb becomes condemned
For being made of meat,
For being sweet and juicy
And for eating grass.
It is never enough to be innocent
When wolves want blood.
To be .. is to be in the wrong,
To be sheepish is a crime.
No comments:
Post a Comment