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(25/5/1957 / Makkah)

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The Last Word to a Dead Friend

Screamed, my nine
Year old lad,
He rushed into my arms,
With eyes full of tears,
Full of fear,
In a childish tone,
He cried
“Jasmina our lovely, witty,
Daring cat is dead;
Crushed by a cruel car,
Her blood is washing
The lane,
It is pouring out
From her bones,
From her veins,
It covered her fur,
We cannot play again,
How can we cover
Her delicate body?
Is it time to say goodbye? ”
So sad felt I,
Sympathy is what
My only son needs,
He became so lonely,
Very early he knew,
The cruel meaning
Of life and death;
The feeling that comes
With the word adieu,
While he is only
Nine years old.
……
My heart was crying,
As I heard his words,
I, the older one,
Could not look
At the road,
My feet spontaneously turned back,
I looked into the eyes
Of her shy kitten,
Who looked sick and lame,
As if he knew the bad news
That just broke,
I sat helplessly down,
Unable to move my eye lid,
Unable to walk,
A hand on my cheek,
Wiping a tear,
Words were pouring out
From my trembling lips:
“Well her time hath come,
I said to my son to calm,
We have no choice”,
Unable to believe he said:
“Mom flush her
With cold water,
It might clean her wounds;
Her soul might return”.
I said: “Dear son
Her soul is extinguished,
She is in peace now”.
……
My four year
Old cat,
My companion who flew to my arms,
As she greeted me,
To feel my grasp,
Who used to stick around,
Who never let me down,
Who licked my fingers,
When she wanted
To show her love or thanks,
For helping her
In delivery or when
I cured her newly born child,
Who is far more
Loyal than most people are,
Who shared my lonely breakfast.

Submitted: Saturday, May 04, 2013
Edited: Friday, May 24, 2013


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