Sentenced to Death, because of your Breed
Dedicated to Douja, a one-year old female pit bull I found tied to a tree in the Highland Park area, February 19, 2006, one frigid morning in St. Paul, Minnesota.
It doesn’t matter, that you were abandoned,
tied to a tree at Cleveland and Ford Parkway,
on one of the coldest days in Minnesota.
It doesn’t matter that you are pregnant.
It doesn’t matter you are scared,
craving and longing for one simple thing: to be loved.
All that matters is that you are a pit bull.
All that matters is the label you carry, the Scarlet Letter.
All that matters is society’s illusive fear, the Black Plague that surrounds your breed.
And that cloud of fear,
combined with laws designed to “protect” us
open up only one path for you,
the one that leads to the almighty needle.
No time for understanding.
No time for compassion.
No time for connection.
Wrapped in our own fear,
we sentence you to death,
because of your breed.
It’s easier to eradicate what scares us,
with a needle that penetrates your vein
and keeps our illusion alive.
Goodbye sweet Douja.
I see you.
I see beyond your breed,
and stand helpless by your side.
Sentenced to death, because of your breed.
Marilou Chanrasmi (2/2006)