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RECENTLY POSTED TO THE ANIMALS VOICE
VOICE OF THE VOICELESS
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I am the voice of the voiceless;
Through me the dumb shall speak;
Till the deaf world’s ear be made to hear
The cry of the wordless weak.
From street, from cage, and from kennel,
From jungle and stall, the wail
Of my tortured kin proclaims the sin
Of the mighty against the frail.
The same Force formed the sparrow
That fashioned man, the king;
The God of the Whole gave a spark of soul
To furred and to feathered thing.
And I am my brother’s keeper,
And I will fight his fight,
And speak the word for beast and bird,
Till the world shall set things right.
THE ANIMALS VOICE AT A GLANCE
FEATURED ESSAY: ‘HOME IS A WOUNDED HEART’
Essay by Animals Voice Founder Laura Moretti
I floated lazily downstream on a makeshift raft I had created, the hot afternoon sun tanning my young skin, bees buzzing the honeysuckle that grew along its banks, a green-eyed dragonfly hovering before my hand-shielded face. There weren’t any other sounds for miles, just the running water emptying into tranquil pools that slowed the raft and spun it slowly before picking up a mesmerizing speed again in the shallows. Overhead, the sky was cloudless and translucent blue. My thoughts were lost in its vastness.
Only my heel touching the lukewarm water brought me back to Earth.
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RECENT NEWS & NOTEWORTHY
OUR NEW MAGAZINE
VOICE OF THE VOICELESS
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
I am the voice of the voiceless;
Through me the dumb shall speak;
Till the deaf world’s ear be made to hear
The cry of the wordless weak.
From street, from cage, and from kennel,
From jungle and stall, the wail
Of my tortured kin proclaims the sin
Of the mighty against the frail.
The same Force formed the sparrow
That fashioned man, the king;
The God of the Whole gave a spark of soul
To furred and to feathered thing.
And I am my brother’s keeper,
And I will fight his fight,
And speak the word for beast and bird,
Till the world shall set things right.
THE ANIMALS VOICE AT A GLANCE
FEATURED ESSAY
Home is a Wounded Heart
Essay by Animals Voice Founder Laura Moretti
I floated lazily downstream on a makeshift raft I had created, the hot afternoon sun tanning my young skin, bees buzzing the honeysuckle that grew along its banks, a green-eyed dragonfly hovering before my hand-shielded face. There weren’t any other sounds for miles, just the running water emptying into tranquil pools that slowed the raft and spun it slowly before picking up a mesmerizing speed again in the shallows. Overhead, the sky was cloudless and translucent blue. My thoughts were lost in its vastness.
Only my heel touching the lukewarm water brought me back to Earth.