Sarah Mae Pussycat,
also known as The Queen of the Universe,
attends our weekly support group meetings.
She arrives in a cardboard box,
her bright eyes dim,
whiskers tattered,
once beautiful coat
hanging dull on her body,
and lies still.
Even my Doberman,
who usually takes exception
to this natural enemy,
doesn’t seem to mind.
The lady she lives with
takes her everywhere now.
She is very ill.
No one should die alone.
And she hasn’t seen much,
having been a house type cat.
What wisdom can you take away
if you have viewed the world
from a windowsill?
Windowsills.
We sit on our windowsills.
Watching out through cloudy glass.
Peering through our drapes.
Afraid to go out, take chances –
Putting life off, sure we have time,
while our cells sign off,
quietly, one by one.
Aren’t we all critical cases?
Our meeting revolve around unconditional love,
giving and the gift of receiving,
accepting others and ourselves,
just the way we are.
And, on non-attachment.
Loving and letting go.
As we review these principals,
our eyes shift often
to a silent cardboard box.
Sarah Mae Pussycat,
The Queen of the Universe,
did not attend this week.
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I get the message but started to cry in the middle of it – I am an animal person and writing about any animal’s death sends me spiralling into tears. Humans, that’s another story. But the message is — do it now! For cryin’ out loud, give yourself a life!!! and take a risk.
This poem truly touched me. We have to live, give and be grateful every day.