A poem submitted by one of our readers, Vivian Chinelli. For more on Vivian and her work, please visit her website.
“I’m drugged by my master to make me go faster, to win the race and save face.
“I get kicks on my sides and a whip on my back. Moving down the track to pass the other horses, my jockey forces me to speed, to feed his greed for greenbacks.
“It’s torture – I am used and abused, my psyche confused. They scream and they yell. If there were a horse hell, this would be it. I want to quit but they won’t let me.
“The human race loves to find a first-place winner and back it. It’s a money-making racket, using me as a pawn from dusk to dawn to earn and turn a profit.
“When I get hurt, they drug me again, so I won’t feel the pain. That’s insane because my injuries only get worse. What a curse that I was born me.
“Did you know … in nature, my mother would give birth to my brother with two years between us to give her a break? But in captivity, this activity is not natural but forced by humans who exploit a horse for the winnings, of course.
“And so, a mare must ‘stand for a stallion’ each year with no rest, in hopes she delivers a winner, THE BEST!
“Will you stand for this?!
“Finally, when we break a leg, we’re immediately unemployed and ‘destroyed’ by injection. No resurrection.
“Can you morally support such a sport? I hope not.”