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Poem

  In memory of a cat

In those years of innocence
When actions were not guided by much sense
I once killed a little white cat
That had trespassed; I guess, while on the trail of a rat.

I knew not from where it came
Or, if the door had been left ajar; who to blame
But I was angered at it's sight
So, I reached for a pestle, and struck with all my might.

In blind anguish it dashed about
Dazed! And of the way out, obviously in doubt
For, I had blocked the kitchen door
A club in my hand – a hammer in the hand of Thor!

Another lone strike, and it’d gone still
In my thrill, I’d cut the air with the loudest shrill
Picked my kill; displayed for all to see
I was a warrior, a great - I had wallowed in my glee.

But, Mum did not share in my thrill
As her words had, through me sent a chill
“The cat will visit in your dream
To seek revenge, if it’s anger is extreme”.

“You’re a self-acclaimed brave
Therefore, by your hands; you must dig its grave
And it’s vengeful spirit pacify
With pleas, at the place where it will now eternally lie”.

With a heart filled with fear
Minding that the night was getting very near
My tiny hands had dug the ground
And I’d rendered my plea upon the little grave mound.

Though, of reprisals from the dead
My then innocent mind later outgrew it's dread
For fun, I never did kill again
As to the sanctity of all life, I got bound by a chain.

May 5, 2018

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