Sitting in the hubbub that is night
in this neighborhood
moon tucked behind tree branches
and diminished by streetlamps
a steady thrum pulse of cicada
and strokes of other insect calls
near and far and farther yet
dogs speak
their high and low
sharp remarks
jet noise travels through the sky
from right to left
from beyond the city
to its heart
car tires pass by
a distant siren shouts urgency
the moon stays white
and round
and silent
something has caught me - a childhood sense
of dogs in the night
of everyone busy living
is this what touches the sadness
to come out of hiding?
my brown, stiff, geriatric canine
companion
who trusted us
who took for granted
our goodness and care
as we sustained him through illness
accident
and a very long old age
bending our comings and goings
to meet his needs
week in and out
waiting and worried and paying close attention
and glad he could keep on going
what gave us the right to decide
not to carry you further
it was too hard
we weren't free enough
to give you a few more days
probably full of stumbling and pain
(but how could we not ease that pain?)
you came back in a dream
young and low, like a seal
swimming through air
full of delighted motion
heading straight for me
why were you
with my father, old friend?
do you know
how I learn now
to treasure what remains?
this line came to me
in my scanty spatter of tears
(not yet full-bodied)
how our weary hearts
rebel
at this mortality
so we talk of you as absence
in a heartbeat, gone
from lively part of this family
to a sad furry remnant
not even holding much resemblance --
a mystery!
or a cheat
how shaken we were
to walk away, off
to ordinary bustle
with this absence
as if you had never been
an absence that catches
as habit turns to care for you
to plan to return to you
to expect you at doorway
or heavily asleep on your mat
in the morning
but we're free
now, after so many years,
not to attend to your needs
and when alone in the house
we are truly alone
undisturbed - uncompanioned
from one heartbeat
to no heartbeats left
as if you were resting
as if you were at peace
at least there's
no more pain
no more turning your head away
from offered food
no more stumbling
on uneven ground
I'm sorry we didn't have one more
long, clear, open, unhurried day
to spend with you
I'm sorry we tucked
your ending into a busy afternoon
getting ready
for a trip
to a wedding
I'm sorry
I've been too busy since
to say goodbye
to say I miss you
your leash still in the car
where we dropped it that day
your uneaten food in the cupboard
your ashes gone
with other unclaimed pets' --
we had no need for them
but perhaps ashes would have been something --
more than the lingering fur
in every unswept corner
more than this absence
less palpable than a shadow
just out of view
more than a silence
forgive us
every neglect
or shutting you out of awareness
-- for convenience
-- for busyness
for not loving you
gladly enough,
often enough
for having to make this decision
without knowing
what you would have wanted
if you could know
if you could choose
forgive us, all of you
earth animals
driven away,
poisoned,
or cherished without wisdom
you have stayed our healing companions
you have taught us
life's persistence
life's joy
thank you
and peace
be upon you
14 comments:
This is so beautiful and heartfelt and brought tears to my eyes. Such a difficult, compassionate decision to have to make. Such an empty place where he used be in your life. My heart goes out to you.
Thank you for visiting me and I have left a message for you there.
Mary Ellen this is beautiful. A real tribute.
I am sorry to hear about Rufus.
Love Renee xoxo
It's a wonderful tribute to something that obviously meant a great deal to you.
So simple, and so real.
"Cherished without wisdom"... How easy that is to do, and how blessed Rufus was to live among wise ones.
"...this absence
less palpable than a shadow."
So beautiful and sad. I'm sorry for your loss.
so beautiful and raw and honest.....
thank you for this...for many things...so much I could say here...so very much
~love~
Thank you, friends, for pausing and reading this rather emotional post. I felt just stating the facts (as I did in an earlier post) didn't allow me to say what I needed to say - though it is not really possible to capture the whole complex weave of regret, sorrow, gratitude, and, yes, relief that I have been experiencing. Peter and I are truly empty-nesters now, and not willing to rush into bringing a new young being into our lives. Perhaps in a few months.
So sad... Thank you for sharing all of this. Such a wealth of emotion. *hug*
Mary Ellen,
I'm so sorry for your loss and so sorry again that I don't know what to say. I've been reading about Rufus here and have cried through your poem because it is so beautifully written but also because in doing so I have been visited by the ghosts of my own lost animal companions. I still dream of them and mourn their absence keenly. I wonder if I blessed them half as much as they blessed me. Thank you, thank you for writing this and for sharing it here.
Mary Ellen,
You have stopped me in my tracks with this beautiful tribute to your friend, and to all of our animal companions. I have a great friend curled up at my feet right now. We are so blessed to have these loving, faithful creatures walk at our sides, aren't we?
May your Rufus rest in peace and eternal sunshine.
Mary Ellen,
I just came by to read again, and appreciate your willingness to share such a time with us. I trust the healing has begun.
Thanks all of you - and sorry I've been away (busy at work - the start of the school year). We're still noticing Rufus is gone but not feeling the tangle of feelings so much about him. Still not ready to adopt a new being-of-fur, though. I'll post something a bit later when this work stuff smooths out a bit.
I'm so sorry to hear that you've lost an adored fur baby. Lovely, lovely, sad poem of loss.
When our pet was dying (euthanized) I talked to her about how the pain would go away and she would no longer have to struggle through that pain to stand up for me and wag her tail.
It's a hard thing to euthanize a pet, but I believe it to be your last gift to them. It would be so hard to watch them die in pain.
You did the right thing. Now you can remember your dog in its younger years and know you gave her a good life.
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