Muffin

The ghost of a marmalade cat
Crosses my path from time to time,
Materialising from nowhere
And vanishing into nothing,
Gracefully and nonchalantly
Parading each of his nine lives
As yet unlived before the car
Caught him, helpless, in its headlights.

He is but a pale memory
Of a prince of cats, barred with light
And bursting with life beneath a
Calm and gentle disposition.
In living room and children’s beds,
His favourite spots are vacant.
Fastidious still, he now frequents
The fireside corners of my mind.

Muffin was killed on 28th November 1988.
Poem finished on 10.1.89

Envoi

When finally the boatman comes
To ferry me across the Styx,
Don’t stay to wave me out of sight
But turn again to living things.
Turn back towards the healing sun
And in some patch of cherished earth
Scatter a wilderness of phlox,
Of lilac, foxgloves, hollyhocks,
That from my shore, with straining eyes,
I see their spires of blossoms rise
And catch upon a straying wind
The fragrance of their scent and yours.
 
November 1989

Of all Faith’s gifts

Of all Faith’s gifts, the one I sorely miss
Is that quiet lifting of the mind and heart
In unselfconscious praise, the soul of prayer,
Those inner songs of joy, all gathered up
And, with a child-like faith, deposited
With love and longing in the lap of God.

Where else and to which ear can I proclaim
The beauty of the mountains under snow,
The faithfulness and glory of the stars?
To whom commit for healing and support
The ailing body or the anguished mind,
To whom entrust the passing of our days?

The Psalmist’s songs are mine yet in my mouth
The words ring hollow and the blessings vain.
When intellect denies the heart’s desire
And reason takes its pure but ruthless path,
The anthems die away and in their place,
Like ivy on a wall, the silence grows.

May 1989