In memory of a kitten and a dark mark on my soul…

We come to this life full of doubt.
Even our beliefs are temporary blinders.
I recall the day I fell out of love with the world,
the kitten laid down on the step at my front door
its tongue hanging short, pink and limp.
When I returned with a bowl of water,
blank cloudy eyes, stiffening legs, matted fur,
innocence and its final breath.

The steps we take reverberate down through the years
so that later in life we may retrace our path
and bear witness to the deprivations in our wake.
These words echo their ruthless judgments.

Funeral rites are no guarantee but merely a hopeful gesture.
The expectation of closure is clothed in doubt.
The expectation of release is a chimera.
The hope that everything turned out alright is an irresistible sin.
Whatever the bright spot I may fashion out of laughter,
whatever the bright memories floating across my field of vision,
the wilderness closes in
collapsing the lies that bear the weight of all my good fortune.