Photo by Emma, age 5
Cat died today, faithful felon of old: my foot warmer, security blanket, and endless friend. I’m unprepared for grief. Let the cat in, let the cat out is no longer a routine in my day. As day breaks with morning’s new sunrise I will ponder how to fill the empty corners of life.
“O death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory.” With cat’s passing I ponder death and loss: the unborn, the war orphan and the unexpected loss. I’m told we shall not all sleep, instead be changed. This soul will be given a new body. I will weigh the balances of life and death.
As days and weeks melt this grief I choose to move forward. Embrace someone who suffers more than I. Grasp the hope of each new day. Yet in the crook of some days I’ll page through the memories of cat and I… cat died today.
Over at dVerse we’re investigating prose poetry. Dedicated to Rachael who lost her cat today and being encouraged by I Corinthians 15:55 I attempts the intangible… prose poetry.
How effortless it’s to wiggle between tree line
where critter jiggles from oaks onto pines;
till somber, slate storm cloud wriggles and whines.
Wayward giggles lost among leafy vines.
Staggered squiggles of peace with worn twine;
as low-spirited heart may sorrow till morning shines.
“Even in laughter the heart may sorrow…” Proverbs 14:13 Over at dVerse it’s all about giggles.
Sandhill Cranes from a few summers ago…
I meander thawing meadow path. My grandson trails behind. Above a sandhill crane soars across muted sky. Mud caked hove prints cover our way. I gaze at my grandson. His eyes filled with wonder, as he freely asks questions. Questions about the nature of life. Trotting on through woods we spot the crane atop marsh ice. We linger in awe. The best things in life are freely enjoyed in a moment of time.
scarlet masked crane
hidden behind brittle grass
plumage reveals all
“Children’s children are the crown of old men, and the glory of children is their father.” Proverbs 17:6 Linking up at dVerse for a look at things free in life.
My day often…
reflects a watershed;
pressure from drainage
passing my way.
over a mosaic of stone
saturating in blues:
cobalt, cerulean, catalin.
My day often…
becomes a tributary
one ripple to the next
flowing toward me.
till banks over flow
infuse my soul;
waiting for a sliver of peace.
“I will both lie down in peace, and sleep;
for You alone, O Lord,
make me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8
There’s a bit of expression going on over at dVerse. Stop in a see what’s happening.
Ghosts of the past, unable to migrate as foul of the heavens, drift about daily memories. If only I could alight from this earthly loss. Just seek the dawning of new day, bath in a spring rain, or rest on sandy shore and heal.
For Lizzie: “But the night shines as the day; the darkness and the light are both alike to You.” Psalm 139:12. I’m joining in the fun by writing a Quadrille of 44 words, including the word ghost, over a dVerse.
Pain comes and days draw nigh as I birr to my fortress. My keep, a sanctuary of stability, reminds me life is vaster than misery. It makes naught the storm or season for I am steadfast. Roots, tendrils, sweep deep drinking rivers of fresh waters. Gales rip at unripe fruit; I surrender not a leaf.
Visiting my massive maple tree which sits atop our highest kettled hill brings comfort. Below a marshy pond houses many critters. With late months of winter arriving, the marsh and tree come alive with song of birds. The sun warms cold flesh and I am refreshed. Not only now, but during my times of struggle I revisit this image and am reminded, as a child of God, I am firmly planted and can stand firm because I’m not alone.
steeple soaring sky,
ebony silhouette show;
my soul now aglow!
Inspired from Psalm One and encouraged by dVerse to the marriage of verse and artwork on Haibun Monday I present In the Word. It is said we are what we eat, but I wonder if what we read shapes who we are?