Forever Home
(In memory of Mr. Spock, my favorite cat forever)
by
Diana Henderson
Your spirit roams the land still
With
padded footfalls ever silent;
Your
wails echo on within our hearts
No
pale meows for you,
No
whispered kitten mews,
But
rather the call of some wild wanderer,
Who
claims dominion
Over
every heart he touches,
Every
blade of grass his paws may cross.
Isn’t
that you walking beside me
Or
trotting up ahead
Beneath
this poplar canopy—
A
glimpse of cornflower blue cat eyes,
Of
cream and grey velveteen?
Ghost-like
memories merely,
A
thousand moments,
Little
flashes, fleeting,
That
pass within my mind
As
I pass here within your realm,
Your
forever home.
There
. . . strolling amid fallen leaves,
Bounding
up that blackgum tree
Then
looking down so longingly,
With
infant cries that say,
“Rescue
me.”
There
. . . crouching in the tall grass,
Stalking
unwary prey,
Alert
and vigilant you stay,
Prepared
to strike
That
pair of legs
That
soon must pass your way.
Upon
attack you find yourself greeted
With
shrieks of laughter—
Not
quite the response you were after,
But
one hug takes it all away.
There
. . . upon the rocks,
Sitting
majestically,
No
poor shepherd watching o’er his flocks,
But
rather a king surveying his lands . . .
Until
pride bids good-bye
And
animal heart unlocks
To
the simple key of open arms,
To
that best, most special place,
A
human heart,
A
warm embrace.
There
. . . sunning on your favorite bench.
Another
ghost seated beside you—
A
girl with long brown hair
And
eyes never quite as blue
As
those sleepy ones that gaze toward her
With
their clear cornflower hues.
As
she whispers into the wind,
“Oh,
sweet Spock, how I love you.”
And
you answer with a purr
And
the love of perfect innocence
That
surely she herself once knew.
Gone.
Spirit
is never gone.
Though
today she stands alone above your grave,
Above
the flowerbed now overgrown,
Where
once you played and hid among the summer blooms;
Though
winter chill and mist cut her to the bone
As
in stark December she gazes down at that small mound of clay
Marked
only with “Cat Crossing” sign and marble stone,
And
once more she utters your name, a whisper,
Blown
by the wind to some forgotten magical place,
Where
you, dear cat, live forever and are forever home.
© 1990 Diana Henderson
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