never a tear shed.

God fish-lines death,

warming beast of waves,

congeries of suffering, and it must burden the toxins

and sprawlings of the moon; it hung a neck

upon the curragh becoming wraith,

it will desert the bloodline it came,

paws toned to grass, father beating a shovel into the ground;

breathes, a hierarchy of blood,

in absence of stone, her ghost ranks to

the sire of madness, dizzy with ocean

pillaged another bone from father,

yet nary a tear I shed, I only recently

when she died almost ten years ago,

awaiting a drowning, hands nigh frost

reflecting over a monk’s shaved head

as the ocean’s mouth hushed,

and the spine of the ghost imaginary axis roars,

salved with two legs, thrown to sea,

drowned to the howls of the moon elm,

begging for asylum; and I imagine her beauty raveled

to death gnawing, laboring upon the broken back of a gazelle, fossils which pierce its antler bone.

© 2020 All Rights Reserved.

Written for the dVerse prompt: “So tonight poets, let’s bear witness in our local neighbourhood. Look at your local paper (if you still have such a thing), find a publicly reported event, a tree planting or a tree felling, a dam opening or a landslide. Perhaps something you witnessed personally – whatever inspires.”

This is unfortunately a true poem for me. I thought back to all of the pets I had that died many years ago. I remember seeing one of their lifeless bodies on the tile floor.

I also thought back to two other cats that are deceased. They were both very old but they died unexpectedly. I won’t go into too much detail, but the look of death in their eyes overwhelms me. I finally was able to cry ten years later over one of them–a cat that I was really close to.

I thank you for reading and letting me share a bit of my life and grief. Thank you.

56 thoughts on “never a tear shed.”

  1. Thanks for sharing this – and for exploring from your personal story. that bit when you mentuioned the look of death in their eyes really struck me. Even if it wasn’t mentioned in the poem I will still take that bit away with me. Keep sharing awesome content.

    Liked by 5 people

    1. ibukun, that means a lot to me. I’m glad that part in my after-note stood out; death is complex as are emotions. I still cannot describe just what in fact I feel when I remember their eyes. I just don’t know.

      Thank you so much for your lovely words. ❤

      Liked by 2 people

  2. It’s heart-breaking to lose pets, and I’ve lost a few, but I never forget them. The last few we didn’t bury, thinking that we might move again, so we have little inlaid wooden boxes with their ashes in, which we can take wherever we go. I still choked up at the line: ‘paws toned to grass, father beating a shovel into the ground’.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Oh my aching heart this is poignant. Thank you for sharing a bit about your life and please accept my deepest condolences for your loss. It’s never easy to cope. hugs 💝

    Liked by 3 people

  4. I can really feel your pain and grief here Lucy, you express it so poignantly!

    That look of death is haunting, then the finality of the burial … glad you eventually let the tears flow 🙂 they are so healing, take care precious!

    Liked by 3 people

  5. Lovely touching and brave piece Lucy – and thanks for sharing such a personal story. Lorca talks about writing with ‘duende’ – which translates to something like darkness, passion, the break in a singer’s voice, recognising pain as necessary corollary of love. (I’m guessing you know this ) – but this is a wonderful poem full of duende.

    Liked by 3 people

  6. Woman, you do write with “duende”. Every one of your poems throbs emotion like a Joni Michell ballad, or a Leonard Cohen poem. Your voice crashes through your vigorous word-weaving and vocabulary lessons.

    Liked by 3 people

  7. Amazing piece in Lucy’s stellar style. I can relate as we lost our 19-year-old cat this past January. Our sweet little angel cried and we cried along with her. We thought we couldn’t handle losing another pet and best to wait before getting another. We adopted our new cat on Valentine’s Day.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Thank you so much, Eugi, and I am so sorry for your loss.

      I can resonate with that. When my first cat died, it was less than two months before I adopted another. Sometimes, time makes it known when it is the right moment for paths to cross. 🙂 What is your cat’s name?


  8. Hey Lucy, I was feeling this similar sensation yesterday and maybe I can understand how you must be feeling. My Labrador hasn’t eaten for a month now and I am so helpless. He is 9 years old and I felt helpless yesterday didn’t know what to do so I wrote something to remember him. I am not sure if he will make it. Hope you are well Lucy. Take care. 😇

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Oh, Kumar, I am so very sorry. 😦 I will keep you and your dear Labrador in my thoughts. I am hoping the best for you both, and I hope you are doing well in spite of the circumstances.

      Much love to you both. ❤ ❤

      Liked by 2 people

  9. This poem touched the heart and opened some old corners which got shut with the course of life. Your poem is wonderful but the situation it describes is equally heartbreaking. Seeing lifeless bodies of the ones you look up to every morning when you get out of bed is like a trauma. I am yet happy to know that you let the tears out.

    Liked by 3 people

  10. As with all of your poems, there’s an atmosphere, dark and violent, and the odd words that the eye picks out from the text. I try to work out where these words come from and what they mean in the context. I’m intrigued about your use of the word ‘curragh’. Did you choose it for the sound?

    Liked by 3 people

  11. This left me with an awful lump in my throat, Lucy.The metaphors of sea, fossils, tears, death, suffering that you paint so vividly and jaggedly, have that sharp edge of grief and pain that leaves the reader reeling, “drowning.” That grief needs time to wear down to its bones is so painfully true. Years go by, and when we are finally able to grieve, we grieve over fossils. I still remember the cat that was taken from me when I was ten years old. How cruel life is. Yet how wonderful to have such creature companions that give us so much in the time we have them.❤️

    Liked by 3 people

    1. I am sorry, Dora. ❤ The pain never goes away of losing a pet, and expressing it and actually feeling it can take years as it did with me. We do indeed, at that point, grieve over fossils and the memories of our pets.

      It is wonderful to have them for the time they are here, and I try to now focus on the present with them instead of a future without. Thank you so much for your heartfelt feedback, and I am sorry for the loss of your cat.

      Liked by 1 person

  12. Reading one of your poems Lucy, is for me, like riding a raft in white water. I feel the thrill of the rise and fall, and not knowing what is around each bend, but excited to discover. Do I grok all you offer, not usually – but always an enjoyable adventure. We just recently lost our dog Stanley. Now our Edgrrr has to do the lovin’ and cute’n work all by his lonesome — but he is most certainly up to the task. 🙂

    Liked by 3 people

  13. I’m truly sorry for the loss of your beloved pets, Lucy. To lose a pet can be a heart-wrenching experience. I feel the wrench here:
    ‘drowned to the howls of the moon elm,
    begging for asylum;’
    At least they are at peace now.

    Liked by 3 people

  14. I really like this piece of work! I just started writing more poetry and hope it can good as yours someday! And I’m sorry you lost a pet, I felt that pain and it’s one that will stick with you for a long time, you will get through it!

    Liked by 3 people

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