on the journey back
from the crematorium
silent and heavy hearted
I saw a dead cat in the road
its ninth life had been dashed
on the black tar macadam
it looked like it was sleeping
but I knew that it was broken
and was never going home
they say cats have nine lives
while men have only one
yet a man can die
a thousand deaths
before his days are done
.
my grandfather
that beautiful old man
shared such treasures with me
tales of adventure and discovery
in distant dark continents
and the cycle of the seasons
in the land we called home
he named the constellations
and revealed the golden ratio
at the heart of nature’s symmetry
he always maintained
that the universe was made
of those little treasures
he passed along to me
and that knowledge is a jewel
to be prized beyond riches
he was not a wealthy man
some might call him poor
but when he left this world
he had bequeathed me wonders
we were enslaved
by your petty regulations
once bitten
twice shy
was a callous methodology
simply operant conditioning
with a practised brutal flourish
spare the rod and spoil the brat
was the dullard ideology
visited on your youth and mine
I saw the dust behind your eyes
you were old beyond your years
something inside you
had already died
every mother’s child
has a thousand teachers
and I was an early receiver
of your twisted ideation
tuned to your negative acuity
I learned to tread lightly
whenever you were around
she went about her business
with kindness and good grace
and where she trod
little miracles sparkled
as morning dew drops
reflecting the dawning sun
like tiny prisms
diffracting and recombining
into a million rainbows
which lit the hearts
of whoever fell within
the spectrum of her love
everyone who loved her
carries that light still
.
you are not Orpheus
you can save no-one
you are not Christ
you shall not rise again
everybody dies
there are no exceptions
you can’t cheat death
we must live with that
once you’re gone
you can’t come back
it’s a law of nature
you can’t fight it
loss is the price we pay
for the love we share
everybody dies
and that knowledge
costs us dear
* image: Hades and Persephone listen to Orpheus’ song in the Underworld.
5132: H. Bissen, 1798 – 1868.
