Cats and Us

cat

Our front yard, which is a deserted plot
During the daylight hours
Has now transformed to a little
Comfort room for the neighborhood cats.

Cats of so many diverse fur coats
Brown and white, snowy all over,
Dark as night and even the patchwork
Can all be seen scanning for the ideal
Spot to lay a memento, an alibi
Of a little dehydrated poop.

And they say cats will go to any house
That is hospitable. Our front yard
Has humus rich earth and a little lawn
Which acts as a burial place
For cat excreta.

Its amazing how opportune cats are
Whether in personal comfort acts
Or preying on a little nestling alone inside a twig enclosure.
And our front yard which used
To be an aviary, is now a ruthless killing field.

And we too search for comfort care
In all the empty places. We go to empty churches
To rekindle our spirits, we lay flowers
By tombstones to remember loved ones
Gone by, we like our own solitude inside a little
Attic, which plays second fiddle
As a writing pad.

And we enter a garden filled with cat poop
Every evening after work,
Searching for a lone rose or a the promise
Of an orchid bud. And cat poop has become our duty
Towards the garden, as we shovel them out
To fill a plastic garbage bag.

Cats are what made us appreciate
What we took for granted – a garden that gives
Us so much joy. And that garden is the first sight
In the evening as we enter our home
And the last sight in the morning as we
Leave through the open gate.

Now every day, we search for cat poo in the evening
And in doing so, we inevitably water the garden and gaze
At the peduncles filled with flowers.
It seems, we have embraced the little joys
Of living with nature.

When I see a cat in the front yard
I look at it like an angel sent from God,
To remind us of the little things we neglect in our rat race,
To succeed and make a living.
It seems the cats have given us
A lot more than poop. The garden has become our
Comfort room to excrete our anxieties
And fears and to live larger than our
Own capitulations.

Now I look forward to gathering cat poop
Even sighting a lurking cat
Knowing it is only a prelude to a bigger pastime.
It’s amazing, how absolutely little it takes
To germinate seeds of happiness
On a fallow heart.

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Published by

meandererworld (Dilantha Gunawardana)

Dr Dilantha Gunawardana is a molecular biologist, who graduated from the University of Melbourne. He moonlights as a poet. Dilantha wrote his first poem at the ripe age of 32 and now has more than 1700 poems on his blog. His poems have been accepted/published in Forage, Kitaab, Eastlit, American Journal of Poetry and Ravens Perch, among others. He was also awarded the prize for "The emerging writer of the year - 2016" in the Godage National Literary Awards, Sri Lanka for his first collection of poems (Kite Dreams – A Sarasavi Publication), while being shortlisted for the poetry prize. Dilantha is a dual citizen of Sri Lanka and Australia, and shares his experiences from two different cultures. He blogs at - https://meandererworld. wordpress.com/

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