Every tale I tell is true, although they may not have happened exactly the way I tell them. I embellish a detail here to emphasize a point. I subtract a detail there so it doesn’t detract from the narrative. I once held an old tabby cat until she died, feeling the blood rise and fall in her veins, and the faint purr of gratitude in her throat. No one wants to die alone, not even a cat. After her death I walked along the beach and picked up a shell. Everyone knows you can hear the ocean in a seashell. I heard my cat. She seemed to be whispering to me as she often did at midnight when she lay beside me in bed. “One day the current will carry you to me forever. Until then, I will speak to you as the wind or the waves. Listen.”
My first memories
burned to ashes long ago,
yet I still sift them.
Do you hear the dreams that call,
Dreams your hands still hope to find?
Stand in wonder of them all,
Pillow them within your mind.
In the shell of your old life
You could stand until you die,
But it’s time to slip away
With the hawk that rides the sky.
Onward through the wind and fire!
Push yourself, do not give up!
You will find your heart’s desire
Waiting in a brimming cup.
More The Whirligig #294
More Writers’ Pantry #48 at Poets and Storytellers United
Eggshell from a squab (or squeaker) hatched in November, Southern Arizona
I hear you speak
waves tumble half a world away
groping blindly for the notes
a squeaker escapes its shell
*Opening gambit by Leslie Moon at Moondustwriter
Final two lines and photo © 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Carpe Diem Tan Renga: “I Hear You Speak”