Friday, September 16, 2016

Home From The War

Cat Meets Buddha (photo: Melanie Lee)


Home From The War
by Melanie Lee

When glory days are done
wounded soldiers always
come home. 

He was a soldier of fortune once,
returned home to lie alone
upon a shelf, closing his eyes to a world 
he couldn't really see,
soul windows wrapped in gauze.


One day emboldened,
he slowly unwound fuzzy bandages
covering his almond eyes
and  wiped away the ointments
covering his soul.
 
He sees now his youthful flings and folly.
It was the fight, the battle royal
the noble stalk
that had seemed so
grand and satisfying. 

 He remembers yet the thrill of the hunt.
Claws en pointe,
 orange fur flying, tail poised,
piercing yowls retorting.
 Possessor of flesh wounds,
regal bearer of scars.


 How soon those days were over.
He has come home now
to live on a ledge
enfolded in the afternoons
 by quiet emptiness,
 the solemn tomb of a once proud king.


Watching himself in wonder he notes the
 efficient and tidy rhythms of
one errant but stalwart heart, the
 marvels of two old, heroic lungs
 bellowing in and out, 
 a spray of stubby whiskers thinned by time 
but useful just the same.

He is faithful to this new place of silence
awaiting his moment of illumination.
The time will come
to roam free again
 joining lady feline angels
with twilight treats
 of sacred fish, magic mice, 
ascended birds and holy bugs.

                                                           Until then
                                                 he keeps his weekly satsang
with the Buddha
who reminds him gently
 yet again...

The alchemy within your soul
will soon give birth
as you sit 
and learn to stay.

Timing is all
growth ripens,
fullness happens,
life asks your permission.

Home from the war
the sun shines,
the Light returns.
You will see anew.


1 comment:

  1. "The time will come
    to roam free again
    joining lady feline angels
    with twilight treats
    of sacred fish, magic mice,
    ascended birds and holy bugs."

    Wow, Melanie, beautiful poem (made me think of Mary Oliver, which is the highest praise I can offer) and I send a profound wish of RIP (peace AND playfulness) to Beamer. No doubt he is reveling in the company of those feline angels and lapping up the tasty treats. A big, special healing hug to you and Louis! Love always, Lisa

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