Sunday, 12 May 2013

Contemplative Cat

                                   Contemplative Cat

If I could sit like you,
staring at the green
light on grass,
the emerging pink of apples
hanging in the moment;
slowly blinking at
the inconsequentialities of
existence; eyelids heavy
with the wisdom of
doing nothing;

if I could unhurry; attend;
like your soft purr,
your fur
soaking up the seconds,
sun on skin, rain on glass,
day on day, life on pause;

if I could sit like you,
ignoring the wound
of words, the gash of flesh
peeled back to reveal
something raw, it would heal
in the waiting.
If I could sit like you,

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