Sunshine and Shadow

road kill

On the pavement, as if sleeping,
A dead cat.
Slowly spreading, dark blood life left.
What has gone?
Some spirit not-stuff, not-thing?
Behind; fur, flesh, bones,
A soft machine,
And me.
What is witnessing this?
Why am I so scared?
Of course, this mystery is ours,
And as I lay the cat-stuff, the cat-thing,
Down, on the soil, behind a wall,
I am shaken with awe, fright and reverence,
Unmediated and raw.
Next time I bow,
I do so extra deep,
And stay there,
'Till tears come.

© Hugh Carroll 2001