Zuzia

I don’t know if it was the result of the storm that passed through here.
Or the fact that Zuzia’s companions will recently be stuffed into a truck in front of her eyes.
But fear pours out of her eyes. Fear and sadness.

Both are probably true.
Because to get to the barn where Zuzia is standing, we have to wade through the mud.
In mud so deep that your legs sink.
Mixed by dozens of hooves that were fighting.
Before they were forced to succumb…

Traces of these hooves are still visible here and there.
We arrived too late…
Why didn’t anyone let me know earlier…
Maybe Zuzia would have different eyes today, happier ones.

I’d like to believe that.
But when I look at the building where she is kept, I say to myself that it is a miracle that it has not yet fallen apart from the wind and rain.
Because maybe this is the only miracle we can count on today?
It’s a miracle that she is there. Zuzia.

And at the moment the conditions in which he lives are not that important.
Or what she experienced.
But the fact that she survived.
And he waits.

The important thing is that she is not alone now.
That there is someone to reach out to her.
And stroke her warm nostrils.
And wash away the fear in her eyes.

This is important to her today.
That’s why we take up the fight.
To give her the peace she surely deserves.