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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I chance upon her in the far reaches of the backyard, a place I never go. There she trembles. A tiny tiger, whose newborn eyes blur the world, secreted in mother-scented-shadows below blackthorn shrubs. Faint mews draw me closer. The power of her vulnerability fills my veins with a ripple rising, brimming me with a nectar needed, like a dry stream bed restored by remedy rains. How helpless she is with new eyes open. Her eyes like skylights — clear and filled with new-wild-blue innocence. Neglected yet beautiful, I sense in her the familiar phenomenon of the impulse to pulse. Her outsized feistiness belying such a petite package of plea and need with teeny needle claws and barely a wisp of a hiss ...and I recall when I felt the fear of being small and voiceless in a choiceless world. Born a feral kitten, her mother likely lost to speed-wheels of a car or snap-jaws of coyotes, whose throats float steaming howls above black saw-toothed pines to haunt the long night moon ...and I wonder, if she wonders, if the sweet-milk-purrs with soft belly fur will ever return to snuggle her. She’s been cold and alone for far too long. So I gather her in the hug of my hands warming her as I draw her in and curl my chest around her littleness. A shield formed against her lone-ness. ...and I, a long-ago-child abandoned, a child whose silent cries heard only by stoic walls, reclaims a voice that helps me make a choice not to let Nature decide how birth and fate collide. So I sit with her, swaddle her, love her. Nourish her with eye-dropper milk where hearth embers still glow after the fire, to heal the orphan and raise the phoenix within.
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