Cat, Cicadas, Breath

 

by Dorothea Biba Naouai

 

The old, yellow cat

Keeps vigil

Behind my right hip

As I wrestle 

With my mind

In the early hours

 

Her juicy purring

Mingles with the trill

Of late summer cicadas,

Deep in the garden 

Dark,

And with the steady 

Breathing of

My sleeping mate

 

This new phase

In our long life together

Has a quality of 

Rending,

Of large muscle,

Stretched to capacity

 

Nothing like 

The quick scalding

Of arguments over

Home repair

Or recalcitrant children

That punctuated

Our earlier years,

Vibrant

 

Each now struggles

Filigree wings, jeweled

And yearning to pulse,

Press against too small

Craquelure chrysalides

  

We hold hands during the day

And interlace our legs at night;

Are you ok?

Are we ok?

We have been here before

In another iteration

 

Let this love

Which has long 

Sustained 

So many so well

Come through the

Dark passage,

Fortified yet lighter,

Free of the tics and spasms 

Of the household’s 

Requirements

 

My breath joins in

The early morning mantra 

Choir of beasts;

Filling,

Receding,

And again

In the Turning

 

by Dorothea Biba Naouai

 

Now listening to the rain

Fall gently, lulling

 

Now my beloved 

Softly breathing

And the wide open 

Possibility of loss, of

Gain, of loss again

 

Now the broadened hips 

Awaking and 

The memory of

Fertility and gestation,

Blooming, fruit

 

Now the heat in the body

And the moisture

On the skin, 

Now the throat, 

The voice and its secrets

 

Now the spine curving,

Gravity astonishing

Now the deep breath

And the remembering

 

Now the beauty, 

The celebration

Now thanks

Now God and god

Now life

Now Life

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Dorothea Biba Naouai is a hospice nurse liaison who writes poetry and practices yoga and meditation.

Twitter: @DorotheaNaouai