On the eve of the anniversary of America's January 22 commemoration of 55 million children slain by their cruel parents and given no funeral, no name, no grave, no chance ~ we learn that Colorado will seek to protect animals from "inhumane" deaths.
This shouldn't really surprise us but it does.
As God tells us in Romans 1:25' "who exchanged the truth of God for the lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever. Amen."
George Brown, an attorney from Aurora with Animals Vote, is leading the effort to take the issue to voters in November.
"I'm with a nationwide organization that believes legislation is the only way we can achieve some sort of humane way of dealing with the overpopulation of homeless pets," Brown said.
The No-Kill Pet Animal Act is being drafted, but would only appear on the November ballot if the signatures of enough registered voters are gathered to meet state requirements."
Colorado has the dubious distinction of being the state to open the Pandora's Box that led to America's abortion holocaust. Rather than rend our garments and weep for the rivers of blood flowing through our sewers and repenting for the family lines destroyed by utter selfishness; Coloradans will
soothe their consciences for ignoring the plight of our pre-born neighbors ~ feigning great compassion
for our furry friends ~ while pretending the slaughter by dismemberment of human beings isn't a problem.
"Ballad of the Unborn
My shining feet will never run
On early morning lawn;
My feet were crushed before they had
A chance to greet the dawn
My fingers will never stretch
To touch the winning tape;
My race was done before I learned
The smallest steps to take
My growing height will never be
Recorded on a wall;
My growth was stopped when I was still
Unseen and very small
My lips and tongue will never taste
The good fruits of the earth;
For I myself was judged to be
A fruit of little worth
My eyes will never scan the sky
For my high-flying kite;
For when still blind, destroyed were they
In the black womb of the night
I’ll never stand upon a hill
Spring winds in my hair;
Aborted winds of thought closed in
On motherhood’s despair
I’ll never walk the shores of life
Or know the tides of time;
For I was coming but unloved,
And that my only crime
Nameless am I, a grain of sand
One of the countless dead,
But the deed that made me ashen grey
Floats on seas of red."
by Fay Clayton, November 8th 1972
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