The hollow ache of grief rising
November 9, 2006 Late moon, warm, wet with leaves down all around.
My cat is missing. I feel The hollow ache of grief rising, like a bad moon, too close, too big. My kitty, my kitty. I didn’t search for her with a flashlight because I didn’t want to find her body like that. Somehow it was better to wait until dawn to reveal the truth, if that is the truth.
I saw a play last night, and it left us speechless and exausted. I can only imagine the woman who wrote and performed it! 9 Parts of Desire, Heather Raffo’s depiction of 9 women from Iraq or Iraqi descent based on interviews.Nine Parts of Desire at Arena Stage
“That was traumatic.” is about all we could say about it, for a long while after the show. And now my cat is missing, ‘disappeared’ maybe by some cruel and greedy force of will, and in my soft and easy life it is the closest thing to terror and war I know.
What happens to cats around here? The story is that owls get them, but I have always found this hard to fathom, unless they are little kittens. Cypress is a fat, sturdy, strong cat with sharp claws. And she wasn’t here to greet us when we returned, walking the car into the drive like a little pilot, returning us to port.
What was I thinking? “Why this play?” Linda asks me , forgetting that she had read about it too, earlier this year, and agreed to go see it. I explain with my smug self satisfied well educated liberal notion, now fattened by yesterday’s sweeping ouster of the fearmongering party from Congress, “Oh, I though an Iraqi perspective, and a woman’s perspective, would be important.”
“That was traumatic.” The woman throwing shoes, feeding the river that bears the dead; the young doctor, sickened by the horrors she works in; the brazen artist, defiant ‘til the end, a not-so-pretty end; the bombed shelter imagery, grisly and haunting; the teeny bopper; the swirling black veil, coming and going, hiding and revealing.
And my cat is missing. All my faith to the contrary, she hasn’t come home, and I rein in my mind from the grisly images it feeds me, waiting , waiting, for dawn to reveal the truth.
My cat is missing. I feel The hollow ache of grief rising, like a bad moon, too close, too big. My kitty, my kitty. I didn’t search for her with a flashlight because I didn’t want to find her body like that. Somehow it was better to wait until dawn to reveal the truth, if that is the truth.
I saw a play last night, and it left us speechless and exausted. I can only imagine the woman who wrote and performed it! 9 Parts of Desire, Heather Raffo’s depiction of 9 women from Iraq or Iraqi descent based on interviews.
“That was traumatic.” is about all we could say about it, for a long while after the show. And now my cat is missing, ‘disappeared’ maybe by some cruel and greedy force of will, and in my soft and easy life it is the closest thing to terror and war I know.
What happens to cats around here? The story is that owls get them, but I have always found this hard to fathom, unless they are little kittens. Cypress is a fat, sturdy, strong cat with sharp claws. And she wasn’t here to greet us when we returned, walking the car into the drive like a little pilot, returning us to port.
What was I thinking? “Why this play?” Linda asks me , forgetting that she had read about it too, earlier this year, and agreed to go see it. I explain with my smug self satisfied well educated liberal notion, now fattened by yesterday’s sweeping ouster of the fearmongering party from Congress, “Oh, I though an Iraqi perspective, and a woman’s perspective, would be important.”
“That was traumatic.” The woman throwing shoes, feeding the river that bears the dead; the young doctor, sickened by the horrors she works in; the brazen artist, defiant ‘til the end, a not-so-pretty end; the bombed shelter imagery, grisly and haunting; the teeny bopper; the swirling black veil, coming and going, hiding and revealing.
And my cat is missing. All my faith to the contrary, she hasn’t come home, and I rein in my mind from the grisly images it feeds me, waiting , waiting, for dawn to reveal the truth.
posted by Ven at 2:21 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home