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Of Feline Deities
My first cats were Abyssinians,
a breed reported to have been
revered ─buried with Pharoahs
in ancient Egypt.
Mine were aloof,
beautiful in a nearly incandescent
aura of ruddy, burnished fur. And
graceful. I was their adoptive
parent, benefactor. Soon I came
to worship them, standoffish
gods─ my Platonic ideals
of beauty come to surround me
with such particular light.
Later,
I took in Valjean, his grey and white
coat more prosaic than his name.
We dubbed him VJ with his tear-mask
markings – a phantom rescued
from under my godmother’s porch. Not
beautiful, homely even, he became
my constant, affectionate companion.
How much he taught me, curling
beside me on afternoon naps, during
each post-op recovery, he’d nudge me
awake, more like a dog, coax me out
to celebrate the exhilarating outburst
of redbud blossoms in the yard. That
tree into which he once climbed, gazed
back framed in purple profusion, as if
to say: I am your heart! Wake up
to embrace what you are missing!
Give yourself over to beauty.
Let this joy now be your deity,
when I am no longer here to be
your guide. |
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