sheru

I did not write

about the small cat

who died this spring

because I did not know

how to speak 

of the improbable brightness

of his being. 

To be honest

I would rather have 

shown you a picture

of him asleep in the sun 

belly soft and open

with the unguardedness 

of a creature

who has never known pain. 

This is no parable

about keeping beautiful things safe.

To see the world only 

for its wonders 

a golden, blessed thing

living a golden, blessed life. 

It is as it should be.