Paula and Mr. Ishmael, a.k.a, the baby boy cat
Photo by Shelley Glick
Untitled
[I know now the beloved]
by Gregory Orr
I know now the beloved
Has no fixed abode,
That each body
She inhabits
Is only a temporary
Home.
That she
Casts off forms
As eagerly
As lovers shed clothes.
I accept that he's
Just passing through
That flower
Or that stone.
And yet, it makes
Me dizzy-
The way he hides
In the flow of it,
The way she shifts
In fluid motions,
Becoming other things.
I want to stop him-
If only briefly.
I want to lure her
To the surface
And catch her
In this net of words.
**
Paula, an old, dear friend is the twinkle in a witty observance and the soft of a breeze. She has repeatedly dazzled and inspired me with emails filled with poems and photos from her life that sing the secret heart of soul, cat or others.
