Life’s Meaning
I will stop work for a while,
and settle quietly on the plank seat.
For the fields are overlaid with hoarfrost;
and the toil of a lifetime draws to a close.
I should light a pipe, if I smoked,
and consider the snow on the wheelbarrows.
What celestial message is this?
I would think, holding my gaze,
and the bench would say:
‘These wheelbarrows were used to remove earth from graves,
the snow represents grief,
a cerement in white
leant against the fence
or laid on a stone bench,
a strata of hope and zest, come to the stillness of rest.’
And I should be happy, that it has come to this,
for I have known love
and in those moments
I both belong and exist.
How this poem came about:
In the week, I spoke to a friend at work. It was obvious that she was still in shock by a terrible event that had happened. Her beloved cat [Lilly] had been stollen, she believed.
After it was obvious something had happened to Lilly, my friend raised the alarm and sent out notifications across social media.
A woman texted, that she had witnessed Lilly — a valuable Siamese cat aged 4 — being “torn apart by foxes.” The woman refused to give any contact details but posted Lilly’s collar.
As she told me this, my friend was visibly shaken.
She continued to tell me of the many prank calls she had received. People pretending, they had found Lilly only then to laugh, say something cruel, and hang up.
I think it was this part of the story, its resonance of evil, that stayed with me. Not so much the evil itself, but the seemingly impossible task of ridding this characteristic from the world.
As with all endless undertaking’s, eventually, one simply has to stop and reconcile oneself with the fact that we can only contribute, never fulfil this goal. And yet the effort…the effort is purposeful, and worthwhile.
©DMM
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