Outside the church
A cat sits on a headstone.
A young cat, lithe and long-legged,
Tabby and white, with big cat eyes, fine head.
This cat is usually friendly
And comes to say hello,
But today
He just sits,
Looking elsewhere with his cat eyes,
The headstone a vantage point
For monitoring
And looking for little prey in the long grass.
At the other side of the churchyard,
A burial takes place.
An open grave, a small congregation,
A simple ceremony of familiar words
Recited in peaceful, prayerful air.
The quietness of the funeral party
And the stillness of the cat
Match each other
Across the grass and graves.
Mr James is lowered into his final rest place
In this hallowed old plot
where his many relatives also lie.
I look at the lichened letters
On the cat’s headstone.
Another Mr James
And later Mrs James
Sleeping here a hundred years or more,
Part of this ground now,
Their memories marked in weathered stone
And guarded by my feline friend.
I’d like to think the cat knew
About the funeral today
And came to pay respects in his own way,
But that is just my fancy.
He does not know of Mr James and Mr James and Mrs James.
And yet, I somehow think he knows
Of life and death, and prayer and peace,
And the Big Cat who watches over all.
Image by Mabel Amber from pixabay.com
Comments