Sunday, July 3, 2011

...and if men should not hear them men are old

"...What was warm, is strangely cold,
Whence dissolved the little breath?
How could this small body hold
So immense a thing as Death?"

-Sara Henderson Hay
Dearest Angus.
How can my heart be open to the little birds, ( who are the secrets of living)...
If you bring me such gifts?
How can i give you all the cuddles you need, whence you continue to bestow upon me such painful holes to dig.

Ill give you more cuddles. and more food. and... more cuddles.
If you keep these pieces of magic in full flight.

xo
Ps. ( this poem is actually about a cat.. Is called " For a dead kitten"... But the immensity of death in creature so small is beautiful no matter feather fur nor fin. )

1 comment:

  1. Earth, receive this honoured guest.
    A little bird, now laid to rest.
    Let this feathered vessel lie,
    Emptied of its will to fly.

    Yet in its tea box coffin placed
    By loving hand adorned with lace,
    Along with pictures of tai chi,
    Dwells the love of miss BPT.


    First verse adapted from a W. H. Auden poem...

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