In the three days' cave, I invite the neighbors' cat in, feed him leftover chicken from my fingers. I continue drinking poetry; I keep a watchful eye on my self-destruction, and I don't drink anything else, not even the Everclear making promises from the cupboard. The zafu is rewarded for her patience.
Eventually the seeker returns from the forest. His voice is gentle, joyful.
The rock rolls back. It looks like we were only sleeping, after all. Lost at sea, after all. Hard to say for sure. Might be that we resprouted from the root. Hard to tell from here.
Still: I am suddenly really, really hungry.
Eventually the seeker returns from the forest. His voice is gentle, joyful.
The rock rolls back. It looks like we were only sleeping, after all. Lost at sea, after all. Hard to say for sure. Might be that we resprouted from the root. Hard to tell from here.
Still: I am suddenly really, really hungry.
I feel like I'm holding my breath after reading these. I'm not sure I want to let it out yet.
Posted by
Janeen |
30/8/07 21:44
So glad you're hungry, wanting to eat, to sustain yourself again.
It's true that we fail the beloved, inevitably and awfully, and they fail us. Pain to walk through, with less certainty than we want.
But that sustenance part in the midst is important.
Maybe a frittata? : )
Posted by
Theriomorph |
31/8/07 11:39
Matzah-ball soup.
Posted by
Kat |
31/8/07 12:12