The Fox at Dawn

2.16.21 Mr. Darcy is Gone

Mr. Darcy, a great friend to everyone, is gone. He died at home, where he always longed to be, after a sudden and catastrophic decline. He did not suffer long and that is a great comfort. He was the sweetest and the most loyal lieutenant, a good boy to the end. He was an exquisite artist in his younger days, pure poetry in motion as he played frisbee. He could spot a rabbit in the dark at 50 yards, alert us quickly to anything unusual happening without making too big a fuss, and was a patient mother to a number of kittens over the years.  A friend to all cats, mail carriers, neighbors, visitors, small fluffy dogs and his best pal Johnny, Didi will be sorely missed. He loved his family most of all, and never left my side, even if I wanted him to. Separation was his greatest trial. It is a blessing that his passing took place at home, in my room, where he has slept for the last ten years. May his great spirit be Home at last.

I wrote the following poem yesterday as part of a class on epistolary poetry I am taking. It helped, a little.

Dear Cindy, 

friend poet,

.

You write of the peace 

of butterflies

And for a moment 

I am filled with breath

Like the opening of soft wings

And it is a balm.

.

I never knew

How soon the tongue blackens,

How quickly the limbs stiffen,

When life has left.

I never knew,

As my body knows now,

What it means to move

dead weight.

.

Our sweetest boy, 

Died in the night

By the foot of the bed

At his post to the end.

.

Frozen rain hits the window,

The hearth fire crackles,

All I see is where he ought to be but isn’t.

.

You write of wild horses 

And warm empty beaches,

Of bioluminescence and butterflies,

.

I take a breath,

Feel the soft wings flutter.

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