Zeita Beaver
I see you wandering, scamming the land for the hopes of scraps or native birds.
I suppose some take care of you, the ones with scabbing collars and clipped ears.
But they don’t.
I see the fleas and ticks sucking your blood, your life as you bask on broken cement and untrimmed lawns.
You eat out of abandoned bowls and plates.
I see your matted coat and
I see the young kittens you care for when just a kitten yourself.
But your freedom is beyond the confines of your canine brothers and sisters.
Who barks and howls as you saunter past, chirping at those who listen.
They are chained to pole and caged outside.
In the blistering heat and searing cold.
But are you truly free? Is your freedom the way of going to and from as you please?
Dodging speeding cars who swerve to and against you as if your life is a game.
You are hard to catch.
You bounce along the alleys and streets in-between East 12th and East Main Avenue.
Hoping you can out-swerve the cars and the cages who lie in waiting for you.
I see you. I see those glossed over, reflective eyes in the passing car lights.
I cry when you run away and hide seeing blood and pests weighing you down.
But would you still be living if you were caught only staying in a locked cage?
Possibly lose your life because of overpopulation.
The overpopulation we have caused.
I have failed you.
We have failed you for that.
We failed your canine brothers and sisters for that.
We failed you in your freedom between East 12th and East Main avenue.
