Sometimes I wish I didn’t know
About a lot of things
That instead I know
And I can’t unknow.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t know
About the male chicks on the conveyor belt
Gassed, grinded, crushed,
And the piglets’ tails
Cut off with no anaesthesia
And cows being raped
And their babies taken away
So we can drink their milk.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t know
About birds covered in oil
And turtles strangled
By six-pack rings,
And about beached whales, dead,
With a stomach full of plastic.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t know
About the Great Reef perishing
And ozone depleting
And ice caps melting.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t know
How much waste the average household produces
And that you can bring your own container
And how to make your own toothpaste.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t know
About the sweat shops
And child labour
And where my clothes come from.
Sometimes I wish I could just live
Without worrying
About all this.
I wish I were able to drink my coffee
In a disposable cup,
Carry my shopping in a plastic bag,
Wipe the grease
From an egg and bacon sandwich
off my lips with a single-use napkin,
Oblivious to the cruelty
And the waste.
Sometimes I wish
I didn’t care.
But I do.
And so should you.
Grass For Dinner 