Notes About The Poem
Inspired in part by Plato's allegory of the cave.
In the Land Where the Shadows Speak
In the land where the shadows speak,
Of sombrous caves of lanterns weak,
Whose smoking flickers aspects change,
Forever shifting, always strange,
Of stony spires and flitting bat,
There lived a thoughtful cat.
A cat of kindness, others say,
But yet a wanderer, the one they call the stray.
His joy in scent and sight and sound
Unique to places that he found.
You pick your joys, and then you pick yourself,
Of what shall live, and what stay on the shelf.
But then that joy all slid away,
As mortal illness on him lay.
“So young I am, and yet I die:
In curled contortions shall I lie?
Is there merit stirring, with final breath?
Is there merit living, whilst facing death?”
Whence knowing not the notion that
“I’ll see the sunlight,” said the cat.
This quest more apt to thought than act,
As whither there his learning lacked;
“But surely, wiser cats must know
The path proceeding from below.”
Then when by fireside councils meet,
He laid his mission at their feet.
“You cat of kindness, others say,
But yet a wanderer, the one they call the stray,
These storied caves, ancestral home,
Beyond this hearth no cat should roam.
‘Tis better not to question thus,
The sunlight is not fit for us,
Nor stir your soul past well and good,
You ask for things no feline should.”
The words were harsh, perhaps unkind,
But did not change the wanderer’s mind.
“A cat may take a dying task,
To know the way is all I ask.”
Still holding to his notion that
“I’ll see the sunlight,” said the cat.
The elder cats conferred at length,
The stray aware his failing strength.
Until at last the eldest said,
As lanterns turned his whiskers red,
“A cat may take a dying task,
To know the way is all you ask.
That path no living cat does know,
So to the shadows must you go.
They are the gathered remnants of all life,
A bit of wit, and more, a mass of strife.”
So to the shadows sent the stray,
As somber elders led the way.
The shadows can but shadows see,
So sat the cat by torches three,
That in their midst his image cast,
A tiny cat on canvas vast,
In somber shifting solemn shade,
With deep respect, entreaty made.
“You are the gathered remnants of all life,
A bit of wit, and more, a mass of strife.
A cat may take a dying task,
To know the way is all I ask.”
And more strong his notion that
“I’ll see the sunlight,” said the cat.
Profound the silence on the wall,
Until the wisest spoke for all.
“You cat of kindness, others say,
But yet a wanderer, the one they call the stray,
We are the gathered remnants of all life,
A bit of wit, and more, a mass of strife.
For creatures of the cave it’s wrong
To journey where the sun is strong.
For to oblivion shall it send,
To see the sun must be your end.
But to this doom your heart is set,
Nor has it ever wavered yet.
A cat may take a dying task,
To know the way is all you ask.
But bitter burden that you seek,
The way is long, and you are weak.”
“The body weak, the spirit strong,
But show the way, I’ll come along.”
Then by the winding way they went,
Where little light their passage lent,
By upward stone, by doubtful crag,
But never once the cat did lag.
Till on a flat they finally stopped,
Whereon the cavern’s basin topped.
“O cat who knows not well enough at all,
What’s light for gods for us must be a pall.
Beyond this corner lies the sun:
But see it once and you are done.”
But firm resolve his notion that
“I’ll see the sunlight,” said the cat.
That thing he wished, that thing was done,
It was as the shadows feared:
For the feline saw the sun,
And in that moment, disappeared.
Ah, but only half they knew,
For in the light came strength anew;
Entering where the shades were blind,
He left the somber far behind.
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