Saturday, September 28, 2013


The clicking on her little paws on the floor at night,
will soon be silenced forever as we give up the fight
to keep her here and close at hand. That war cannot be won.
It's 2 am, I keep the watch until the deed is done.
Her 16 year old body has bounced back many times before.
But the chronic cough that rakes it now takes her closer to death's door.

No words need decribe the agony of losing such a friend.
A faithful companion going away without a humane end.
No money and no mercy from the vets or SPCA.
Inept and heartbroken a day before, we failed to put her away.
The sudden surprise, the hope of a sign when she awoke once more,
gave way to melancholy. Just an extra day of war.

No miracle appeared this day. The evening came again.
Waiting on this death watch knowing it's not "if" but "when".
Today's the day she goes away. Many know how that feels.
Unable to take the pain from her, no miracle that heals.
I wait for God here in the darkness, but still  I see no light
to illuminate the mercy some say lies in the darkest night.

Phoebe-Full sized Chihuahua
Born: 12/29/1996
Died: Today

Sunday, September 22, 2013

The Boxer

As a young man, my aspirations had me retired as a millionaire by now. Not being cut from job after job for nebulous reasons, always my fault. Not because I am pushing 60. Not because the skills I gained from a lifetime of meaningful employment has made me more savvy than the college grad who takes my job. Or the good-ole-boy who is a better 'fit' for the boss. Not out of fear that I have the experience to do my boss' s job, even without the desire to do so.

What the younger version of myself didn't understand while he was struggling through school, learning everything he thought he'd need to retire comfortably...The Road doesn't end. It narrows to a single lane, goes to gravel, then dirt. The dirt road snakes through the darkness, leading to the oblivion somewhere over the hill where falling trees make no sound.  Only there does The Road finally disappear in silence. Paul Simon says it best in "The Boxer".

In the clearing stands a boxer,
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame,
"I am leaving, I am leaving."
But the fighter still remains