Have you ever seen the face of baby who has given up on life?
I call her Hope.
It is clear from her face that she had lost all of hers.
When I saw her my thought was this; I wanted to gently pick her up and take her home, place her under a heat lamp and put a blanket around her, feed her by hand and stay up all night just to watch her until she is OK.
But she will never be OK.
And I can never take her home.
Because come morning her little body was in pieces in a white, clean, shiny refrigerator truck that you’d pass by every day without giving a second thought.
I Hope the slaughter process you went through included stunning.
As you were forcefully dragged along the conveyor, upside down by your legs. The conveyor which would deliver you to your death, I Hope you did not raise your head to see your sisters to the left and right of you, such that you lifted your head so far as to miss the electrified water bath intended to render you senseless.
Out of fear from the bright lights and loud noises and inability to move with your feet in shackles, I Hope you did not jerk your head away from the automated throat cutting designed to bleed you of your life blood, such that it would not taint your flesh, which is the only part of you that held any value for so many of my species.
And I Hope that, because I so Hope with all my heart that you did not end up in the scalding chamber alive and capable of feeling, as some do. Boiled alive.
Darling girl, I wish I could have saved you.
I could not bring Hope to you. But I will never stop trying to bring Hope to others, and you will be the reason.
You were a daughter, a sister, my inspiration. Your life had value. Rest in peace Hope.
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