Sciences Participating with Arts & Culture in Education

Circus Dogs

Illustration by VICTOIRE KERGOAT-BEZEAU

Humans walk with grief tucked between their legs,
Domesticated animals, tame and soft,
Sitting when asked to sit. Quiet,
With chokers to keep them contained.

They dress in slick black ties,
They stand and kneel and pray,
Mourning behind handkerchiefs and flowers,
Speaking words of praise, words of love.

They do not scream when dirt is shovelled,
Or fall onto their clean hands,
Or smash their heads into the raw ground.
They whimper in silence, hide anger,
Their throats squeezed shut by convention.

They fear their own bite, a snap,
Fear writhing in pain with an open wound,
No tongue to lick the blood off,
Only layers of cloth to wrap around it.

They become creatures locked in a zoo,
Circus dogs dancing to the right music,
Jumping through all the right flaming hoops,
Trained to land on the other side.

They feel the urge to screech,
To howl at the moon in agony,
Tremble with the drop of heavy tears,
To succumb to the weight of denial piled onto
Regret, sorrow, and “what if”s.

But humans refrain from being savage,
Swallowing instinct and spitting out ritual.
They refuse to be forever preyed upon by life,
To indulge in the guttural pain of grief,
Of loss.

Animals bound by chain-link fences,
They become nailed-down targets,
Forever trying to deflect arrows,
Never stopping to feel the ones that already hit them.