Saint Gertrude Day!(a day late)

A Prayer to St. Gertrude, Patron Saint of Cats

Dearest Gertie, ask you I pray…

watch over the evil little cats…this and everyday.

Protect them from those who wish them ill.

Keep them at home…four tiny paws…safe from the snowstorm.

Give me the serenity to accept their indifference to me.

                the courage to be humble in their presence

and…     the wisdom to hide all breakables I wish to keep.

Protect my lawn furniture from the neighborhood Tom Cat.

And, Gert, a last thing I beseech from thee.

Please don’t let them kill me in my sleep.

-Amen

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Patron Saint of Cats…Sista Gert believed in her visions.  She believed in purgatory.  She believed…rodents, mice, etc., were handmaiden’s to hell’s highway.  The only way to rid the heavens and earth of this evil?  Cats!

Which as a cat owner, I can now understand.  Gert knew that there was a hell out there.  Possibly she had a ‘vision’ of where we now stand with Trump.  One thing led to another.  The ‘visions’ got worse.  Hell came in the form of rats.  And, Gert did not figure out until late in life…get a cat!

The cat solved the infestation.tumblr_p5qjeh6jca1rmxjpho1_540

So she chilled, as she grew older, with cats.

Hence Patron Saint of Cats!

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Prayer

A caretaker…she had asked me about…how I feel about…prayer.

The room enclosed, sterile, without flair.

I bounce the question around my mind like kick balls fluctuating against a solid wall.

Where was the ‘good doctor’ going?

She knew my truth…yet, there had been a wanting of understanding.

Needles in a cushioned tomato…picking, pricking, anxiety clouded my honesty.

All I had known was the ‘Father!’

Why corner me with him?

My resolve against religion was worn thin.

All revelations and testaments were gaunt.

I did not pale in response.

‘I cannot speak for you…What you have been through…I only understand that the King…did not give me my due.’

In the silence,

only a simple response…

‘I will pray…for you.’

 

One Day by the River

 

With all the dips and lulls at an impasse…a drought!

No, to transparency…living, life, cloudy with doubt.

One day while praying for rain,

I convinced myself it has always been this way.

Speechless with cotton mouth, dried by the fray…

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One day by the river,

brittle as, burning parchment…

praying for rain.

Empathy receded in silent shame.

Used Thoughts

I wet my appetite with the languish of…

old roads,

abandoned homes

and stories untold.

Hell bent on mysticism from possibilities existence.

Firm, are my devotion to lines in the snow.

And, where could they perchance…go.

Scars in the skin of life.

That never remain in the same path twice.

One Good Foot

Useless, this conversation, shrouded in mimed opinion.

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Impaled words imposed by a right foot wishing to get ahead of itself.

Impoverished by motion held in fields of yonder and lore.

I could take each step with,

post scripts,

‘Do not go.’

Pray, to acquaintances,

‘You have not seen.  What I have come to know.’

And, still,

6 months 4

I get ahead of myself.

Stumbling into shafts of dimly lit mistakes.

Deprecatingly,

rolling about in wooded carnage.

Illogically, pressing the accelerator.

Not the brakes.