~~THE POETRY OF KATHERINE E. RABENAU~~
Eagle
The Dream
Awakening
Untitled
The Rock and the Dead Child
Song of An Elder Kitty
Song of An Elder Kitty2
More Poetry One...
More Poetry Two...
More Poetry Three...
Joseph's Story
The Hermit of Angelwood Mountain
Waiting For the Unicorn
Such flight must surely be magnificent
Must loose the soul to higher worlds
It is too beautiful to be merely practical
Look how he dances, glides and swoops
Within the endless depth of sky
So certain of his power
So easy on the wind
Look how the heavens carry him about
Above the rugged spires of a dying world.
Some distant dream
Nags at my mind
Calls angrily
Move on
Awake and run
Be gone to some far mystic land
Where poets run on moonlight sand
And waking dreamers
Sing their songs aloud
Run wild
Let go of tepid things
And face the wind.
Live as big as the sky, she said
And I felt my heart awaken and take note
As big as the sky? it whispered
Can I do that?
I don't know, I said
(Liking always to be honest)
But we can try.
I wrote this little poem earlier at the Poetry.com magnetic poetry contest. Tomorrow (December 5th) is my mother's birthday and I offer it as a gift to her memory.
Mother
aching with love
my outstretched arms
remember catching
only your pain
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THE ROCK AND THE DEAD CHILD©
with thanks to James Mulry
In my throat is a rock with a dead child inside
Like the petrified fist of some giant god,
It wraps around her small corpse
Her legs stick out, limp and dead
And the rock wonders what she is doing there,
And why she died
It does not mean her any harm
It does not undersand, even,
How she came to lie dormant and frail in it’s grasp
It does not understand, even
Who it is
It remembers vaguely as though from some dim dream
That she needed to keep quiet
And stop struggling
But struggling against who or what
It cannot say
And it is frightened
By a vague sense of somehow having done wrong
It wishes she was gone
And then wonders who it is without her
Maybe they are one being and not two
And it did not exist first
But slowly grew around her
Day after day after day
And year after year after year
Never noticing
Until in this moment
Suddenly awakening
It finds her long dead
It keeps thinking of the Wicked Witch of the East
And wishes some Dorothy would come along
And make those legs (so limp and dead,
So small)
Shrivel up and go away.
But this is not Oz
Or Kansas either
But some no man’s land
And this body is not some evil witch
But a small child...
She can’t be more than four...
Silenced in a tomb of oblivious stone
That wishes
With whatever dim heart a stone can hold
That it could let her go,
Could bring her back to vibrant life
Wishes too somewhere in it’s confusion
That it knew how to cry
And wash itself clean
Of this child who holds it as captive
As it holds her.~~October 5, 1999
They are who they are
And I am me
Abigail, Elder Kitty
I have no regrets
I have lived my life my way
Kept mostly to myself
Enjoyed the simple pleasures
Of hugs and food and a good brushing,
An afternoon of sleep twined against my sister’s soft purr
Or scrubbed meticulously by her fierce, determined tongue
That was how she finally received me
Those many years ago when we were young –
With a bath –
After she hissed and snarled and acted gruff
But I knew better
Saw at once her tender heart
She’s a little older, you know, and puts on airs sometimes
But mostly you couldn’t ask for a better friend
She’s so smart and sure of herself
I watch in awe sometimes
She and Person are close in a special way
I know I am loved – deeply loved,
But I do not hold the same place in Person’s heart
my sister does
It used to bother me
Once, a long time ago
And not so long ago, really.
It bothers Person
But I have learned, somehow, that it is not against me
It is not that I am loved less
It is that the bond between them is primal,
time-worn across the ages
They have know each other since time began
And I am a new arrival
Now that I understand, I am learning to let the love in
And life is truly grand and blest
I can no longer jump as high as I once did
But I can still do a good zany run
And now I sing my heart’s content
Loud howls.
Person says it is opera
And sometimes she laughs and smiles at my songs
And sometimes she shouts and acts quite fierce
But she is funny that way.
She snarls so grim and in the next breath
She is all apologies and love
And good, strong tender hugs
And sometimes she sings to me – to us
And tells us all our names
For me there is Dougie and Abby-dougie,
And Dougal MacDougal, and Wandagail
And Wanda the Wailer and Munchkin
Or Dumpling.
I am also known as Wanda the Wiggler
And Princess Furry Face the Second
And Munchkinetta
The list is long
I like that.
I like my life
I am Abigail the Elder Kitty
And I have found myself at last.
May your lives be as blessed.-Abigail, Elder Kitty,
(sister of Katrina, aka Princess Furry Face the First also an Elder Kitty, feline companion of Katherine, aka Person.)
SONG OF AN ELDER-KITTY, 2 - I ENDURE
My person has brought me to this desert place against my will
But she cannot make me like it
She thought I would relent and grow accustomed
But she was wrong
I have no intention of joining in
Not now, not ever.
It is all too much
Two other cats who think they own the place
(And I guess they do since they were here first)
They are not bad,
But they are too young to understand my ways
And they are loners anyway
Not like Katrina who was my friend
I will never snuggle with them
Nor they with me
It is not meant to be no matter how much Person wants it
And of course there are the Dogs - two of them as well
Great monstrous beasts they are who wish me dead
Person thinks we could be friends, but I know better
Let younger kitties master the art of Dog
I have no wish to battle the great loud hound
Who sees me as his foe
Stupid creature
Person says he is afraid of me and perhaps he is
She is no fool, my person,
But I am old. I do not wish to test it
And fear is often the mother of great atrocity
Time has taught me that
Time has also taught me
(Though I have broken that rule already)
Never to say never
Tomorrow is another day
And who knows what it may bring
Perhaps my fear will fade
And this strange world will feel like home
Perhaps not
Either way
I am content in my fashion
I have my little room and it must be enough for now
I miss Katrina and I miss my other world
The one where I knew every corner even with my failing sight
So I will stick to this small room that holds the remnants of my life
And I will be happy here in my way
I have the constancy of Person’s love at least
And that’s a lot
And so I will go on
I will endure
Because that is what I do
I will adjust, but only so far
Enough is enough
I’m here.
That will have to do
I am Abigail, Elder Kitty
And I endure.
- Abigail, Elder Kitty
as dictated to her Person in Mesa, AZ on 8/15/2000 at age 18
Enter Here: A number of silly poems...
Enter Here: Some more serious poetry...
Enter Here: Some more poetry...
Enter Here: I really like this story. It is Joseph's experience of Jesus' crucifixion. Doubt it will ever be published, so I'm going to make it available here. Unfortunately not long after I wrote it, I learned that Joseph was already dead by the time Jesus was crucified. So it goes. I still like the story. It's poetic license to put words into Joseph's mouth anyway, so the fact that he was dead is just extended poetic license, I guess.
Enter Here: This was published recently in a magazine called Holistic Alternatives which is published in Durango, Colorado. I like the line about tears. I think it's true.
Enter Here Who Dares: Waiting for the Unicorn is the beginning of an autobiographical novel. So far the only thing fictional about it are the names, but who knows... I can't call it a work in progress. More a work in stasis. It's kind of depressing and it needs work, but I'm a writer and I like having what I write be read, so... If you have nothing better to do....
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