Effigy

Utter contempt
For a beautiful soul
Whose historicity
Was in control
A true inner being
Enduring was she
The desert the sands
Well grounded she be

Essentially spirited
In point of fact
Carrying travelling
She could react
Working with vigour
Weighty and strong
Steadfast and willing
To work to belong

On prolonged journeys
She was powerful and strong
And as she got older
No matter how long
She pushed through the sand
All embracing was she
An astonishing friend
To her master to be

On her back slung the cargo
And despite its great bulk
She would keep up the pace
And just never sulk
A superior being
A majestic repose
Working to please
As the old saying goes

When she became lame
Chaos set in
She was discarded
Her head in a spin
She always had hoped
She would be retired
To some desert paradise
And would not be required
To slave anymore
But just rest and be sure
All the work she’d
Put in
No one would ignore

But man isnt kind
These merchants soon see
The need to replace
Something younger
And she
Sold off to someone
Just anyone who
Would give over some cash
To turn her into stew

Lead off to the store
A butchery place
And there to be slaughtered
Yes such a disgrace
She had hoped for retirement
A warm quiet retreat
But instead it was death
By halal in the heat

That old blunt knife
Was used like a saw
Rupturing blood vessels
Yes by the score
A fountain of crimson
A great well of pain
Beyond comprehension
A boundless refrain

All those thoughts
Flooded back of the journeys
She made
Of the terrible weights
And how much was laid
On her tired back and flanks
As she drove through the sand
Gasping in the hear
Trying to understand

Falling down on her knees
With her eyes fading fast
Her time was over
Her die was cast
The sicko’s were weird
And decided that they
Would prop her up straight
In a sort of display

And carve from her body
Her flesh as it sold
Add ferns at her neck
And it just did unfold
The evil of man of the butchering class
Who abused her memory
Each backsliding arse
Total disrespect
For a valiant soul
Evisceration
Some invalid goal

A point of sale
A deterioration
Made to look lifelike
Though their occupation
Their sinister artwork
A foot from the grave
Such vulnerability
For a dead slave

Her disequilbrium
Thrust into view
Disfigured and contorted
Now far from true
Out of kilter a bit mangled
Knocked out of shape
Perverted and twisted
And bound up with tape

Such an ugly effigy
Hacked at each day
Gashes and slashes
Such an ugly array
Of dried bloodied bones
And a haven for flies
Creating their maggoty
Realms as a prize
For the unsuspecting
The diners who bought
Repulsed by the off putting
Stench that they snort
Up into their nostrils
That acrid hors d’oeuvre
That weakens the stomach
And so tests the nerve