Heart of a Wolf
folder
Poetry › Free Verse
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
Views:
984
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Poetry › Free Verse
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
16
Views:
984
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
this is a work of fiction or poetry; that any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental, These poems are fictional, Some of these poems were written with the help of my friends Apollo,
Final Request
Okay okay, don't go thinking this poem is all deep and meaningful about a person I lost. To explain this I must admit a few things to those reading this.
First off, Feel free to accuse me of witchcraft, I am in fact guilty. My religion is Wicca. However, before you go thinking badly of me, all it means is I use Magick, in a way similar to a Christian using prayer. To us, all animals are sacred, and even though we have no true dietary restrictions, we usually thank the animals that provide us with our food. In addition, my Coven that is a group of us that practice Magick together, hold the animals we keep as pets, closer to our hearts than some people hold other humans.
Second, when you hear the term Familiar, used with witches, for my coven, it means the animal we have formed a close bond with, to the point where we know what they feel, we understand them as if they were speaking plain English. Before I truly called myself Wiccan, I had a pet cat. He was with me from the time I was 7 years old, until around April, 2007, when I was going on 17 years old. He was like a brother to me. His name was Streak, named so for the fish shaped white patch on his orange and brown tabby and white pelt. He was huge, both tall and round for a cat, and he smelled constantly of motor oil from long nights spent out in the garage, where he hunted mice. He helped me focus, both mentally, and Magickally, but he was most noted for his ability to pick up on my moods. If I was crying, and had locked myself in my room, he would scratch at the door, with his declawed paws, until I let him in, upon which he would leap onto my bed, and lie next to me until the tears stopped, sometimes rubbing my face with his to dry the tears away. If I was angry, he would jump onto my chest while I was lying on my bed, and lay a single paw on my neck or cheek, asking me what was wrong. In addition, when he was sick, I knew something was wrong immediately. I felt helpless when I couldn't fix what was wrong with him, and his suffering affected me as if I was watching a sibling waste away. He had bladder stones. Those of you who have had a kidney stone know how it feels, but for him, it didn't happen once, or even twice. Also, the stones never passed. He had 4 surgeries, but the last one, he never actually recovered from. I went into a depression when he began getting worse. I finally told him to let me know when it was time for me to let him go. In April, 2007, he let me know. He walked up to me, and let out a heart wrenching meow. When I say meow, I don't mean the "I'm hungry", "Play with me", or "Clean the litterbox" meows. I mean a cry similar to a baby screaming in pain. I can't explain how I knew what he was telling me, but we took him to the vet, and for the first time ever, he didn't fight. It was almost like he knew this was the last time he was going, and like he accepted it. People say that animals have no complex emotion, or thinking, well, they do.
This poem, was a poem I dedicated to Streak O'Malley K______. I wrote it before we went to the vet, and read it to him before they put him to sleep. The last thing I remember of him, was the look in his eyes, like he was telling me "It's fine. Don't cry."
I did the only thing I could do to honor him when he passed. I had my parents pay for his ashes to be saved. (I had no access to my bank account at the time) and made a small shrine honoring my furry little brother, and my first Familiar, in my bedroom near the place where my bed was when he was alive.
ANd now, I share with you, the poem I dedicated to Streak, Final Request...
Final Request
First off, Feel free to accuse me of witchcraft, I am in fact guilty. My religion is Wicca. However, before you go thinking badly of me, all it means is I use Magick, in a way similar to a Christian using prayer. To us, all animals are sacred, and even though we have no true dietary restrictions, we usually thank the animals that provide us with our food. In addition, my Coven that is a group of us that practice Magick together, hold the animals we keep as pets, closer to our hearts than some people hold other humans.
Second, when you hear the term Familiar, used with witches, for my coven, it means the animal we have formed a close bond with, to the point where we know what they feel, we understand them as if they were speaking plain English. Before I truly called myself Wiccan, I had a pet cat. He was with me from the time I was 7 years old, until around April, 2007, when I was going on 17 years old. He was like a brother to me. His name was Streak, named so for the fish shaped white patch on his orange and brown tabby and white pelt. He was huge, both tall and round for a cat, and he smelled constantly of motor oil from long nights spent out in the garage, where he hunted mice. He helped me focus, both mentally, and Magickally, but he was most noted for his ability to pick up on my moods. If I was crying, and had locked myself in my room, he would scratch at the door, with his declawed paws, until I let him in, upon which he would leap onto my bed, and lie next to me until the tears stopped, sometimes rubbing my face with his to dry the tears away. If I was angry, he would jump onto my chest while I was lying on my bed, and lay a single paw on my neck or cheek, asking me what was wrong. In addition, when he was sick, I knew something was wrong immediately. I felt helpless when I couldn't fix what was wrong with him, and his suffering affected me as if I was watching a sibling waste away. He had bladder stones. Those of you who have had a kidney stone know how it feels, but for him, it didn't happen once, or even twice. Also, the stones never passed. He had 4 surgeries, but the last one, he never actually recovered from. I went into a depression when he began getting worse. I finally told him to let me know when it was time for me to let him go. In April, 2007, he let me know. He walked up to me, and let out a heart wrenching meow. When I say meow, I don't mean the "I'm hungry", "Play with me", or "Clean the litterbox" meows. I mean a cry similar to a baby screaming in pain. I can't explain how I knew what he was telling me, but we took him to the vet, and for the first time ever, he didn't fight. It was almost like he knew this was the last time he was going, and like he accepted it. People say that animals have no complex emotion, or thinking, well, they do.
This poem, was a poem I dedicated to Streak O'Malley K______. I wrote it before we went to the vet, and read it to him before they put him to sleep. The last thing I remember of him, was the look in his eyes, like he was telling me "It's fine. Don't cry."
I did the only thing I could do to honor him when he passed. I had my parents pay for his ashes to be saved. (I had no access to my bank account at the time) and made a small shrine honoring my furry little brother, and my first Familiar, in my bedroom near the place where my bed was when he was alive.
ANd now, I share with you, the poem I dedicated to Streak, Final Request...
Final Request
I lean against your shoulder,
My eyes they fill with tears,
Not wanting to say this good-bye,
After all these loving years.
A single word is spoken,
As you close your eyes,
I know for many days to come,
All I’ll ever do is cry.
I’ll still have all the memories,
You’ll live on in my heart,
But now all that I want is time,
And for us not to have to part.
So many wasted moments,
Your final wish I heard,
All I could say was “I love you”,
Because “good-bye” is the saddest word.