Ode to the 35 Horses Killed
by Dee Beaugez

Thirty five souls passed away
         one warm December Day
They  can not rest
          until they know that the murderers will pay
                  for the crimes of that fateful day.

These people came armed with rifles made of steel
    They purchased many a round
      Simply to assure the hits from the .30.06’s
           Would cut their bellies deep with such a sound!

The predators picked the open-range
         where the gentle creatures roamed
                'Twas their home - the land they loved
                       A place where they felt safe and free!


This was no act for food or survival
      This was simply
               Cold-Blooded Murder!


These 35 were spirits free and strong
        Galloping and playing all day long
               Their nature had grown gentle,
                            as they had learned to trust mankind.

The shots rang out,
      echoing across the quiet valley.

One by one the gentle creatures fell,
       The bullets ripping through their bellies as they swelled
              Tearing the insides out…
The bullets continued to cut and rip away,
                    Until all that was left were
                              Crying souls who wondered why.
    
            Why had mankind killed them that fateful day …


Their question was simple as can be,
       WHY?  
           Why did they kill us?
                 It’s our nature to roam and play
                           Why did you take our lives away?

We have wondered these hills free and strong
               Now we’re forever gone,
                      Only our story to linger on!

These cold-blooded killers took delight in this tragic sight
          In fact one was so bold
                  as to decide to torture one poor kind and gentle soul.

If you walk upon the soil near Lockwood  today
      You will no longer feel safe and free.
            There comes a knot deep within
                   Because you feel death is all around.

                    Hear the sounds?

                   Listen,
                        that is not the wind you hear,
                                but a filly’s spirit near.
                The whisper is clear, 
                        "How dare you mock my kind."

They have gathered together in a herd above
         Now  searching for the cold-blooded killers.

The black stallion is in the lead,  can you see?
        Today they were as one
                 and began the search indeed.

             I say to each and every one...
                                   God's speed!

These gentle souls have promised that they will not sleep
        until the murders are found
            one by one
                 buried alone
                   within the COLD HARD ground.

So when you walk in the desert, 
         stop and listen...
                   Do you hear the horses cries?
                           Can you feel their pain?

One day the sounds
        OF THE HORSES PAINFUL CRIES WILL DIE AWAY
              It will once again be silent,
                    like that fateful day...

When the Murderers Stole their gentle souls away!

Dec. 30, 1999

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