Her voice was low and kindly yet discreet Describing all the summer flowers,ah sweet William,poppy,rosemary, striped bees A little play we heard when drinking tea
His face was gentle, did not seem aggrieved He could not see and yet he looked well pleased Her voice caressed him tenderly and strong I hoped that she would burst into a song
Loving touch can come from hands or voice We are not taught such differences or choice Indeed with teachers stern and parents rough We may experience touch as cruel and tough
Let our voices do no harm nor hurt Hell is made of lovers now turned curt
Mary was feeling very tense; her back was aching. Oh dear she moaned to her cat Emile. what a pity I can’t go to the beauty salon for a massage. I feel like it would do me so much good Her little cat was very worried. What can we do ? I have got a bright idea ,said Mary. you can massage my back I don’t think that my paws are big enough I know what to do Mary cried. If I lie on the bed with my back bare you can put some hand cream on your paws. then you can walk up and down my spine. Off course you will have to wash your paws first.
Art by author
I have got a better idea as a cat. I will go out and get Smokey who is in the shed and Dusty he lives up the road and all the three of us can walk up and down your back
I suppose that since I am the biggest one I will walk in the middle and they can walk on either side of me
Emile left to collect his friends while Mary got a shallow dish of warm water and a towel so that the cats could wash their paws after they came through the cat flap from the garden
She carried a large tub of moisturising cream upstairs and lay down on the bed with nothing on but her skirt and some stiletto heels plus a scarf and hat in merino woo;
Suddenly she heard a loud voice.
Where are you Mary she heard this very loud cry Go away,Annie said Emile, go away mother is having a sleep
Ok I’ll come back at 5 oclock. she heard the kitchen door close and a few minutes later in ran the three cats ready to help her
My goodness what would Annie have thought if she had seen Mary lying on the bed? Mary put some cream from the moisturiser tub on to a plate so that the cats could get their feet covered She lay face down on the bed and she felt the soft pads of their feet on her back Lovely she cried
Emile mewed, Now keep parallel to me and press your feet down firmly as you walk. The three cats walk slowly up her back until they reached her shoulders Now do do a 180-degree turn and slowly very slowly tread down Mary’s back until you come to her waist All of the cats kept well in line firmly but gently down there is aching bad Do it again Mary called
Smokey and Dusty were surprised but Emile was used to the strange ways of human beings especially Mary and Annie who has been very distressed when poor dear Stan had been taken away from them This is how grief affects some people They do the most odd things. but in another sense it seems a very sensible thing to do;it certainly helped Mary’s back When she told them that she was feeling better they stood up on their hind legs and with paws touching they dancted around in a little circle on her back while Mary sang
Here We Go Gathering nuts in May
Unfortunately there was nobody there to take their photograph but if you have someone might be able to arrange for something like this for yourself
Otherwise tie a soft cloth on the end of a brush and and rub your back with this.
Do make sure that no one can see you through the window because you would have to take your clothes off
You might live in a nudist colony and then it will be alright I think I’m going to do it myself after I have a cup of tea. I will put my raincoat on and go outside to see if I can find any cats roaming around at dusk I do have a black cat that sleeps on the landing on the hot water pipe but unfortunately he doesn’t speak English And nor do all of us
I wish there were no numbers and no dates I forget them all , yet memory is like glue With counting, with remembrance, with lost mate
There’s our sorrow and its seas to navigate The waves rise up and drop, so old so new I wish there were no numbers and no dates
Why are modern hearts so separate? The seas of knowledge, all are one in truth With counting, with remembrance, with no trace
Oh,universe, why do you have such space With patterns in the stars, that might us soothe If there were no numbers and no dates?
Why are we self labelled as a race? Slowly, surely we will dig up truths With anguish, with remembrance, oh, lost face
When will grace remake a soul so bruised Struggling with the time scale, still bemused I wish there were no numbers and no dates No counting, no remembrance, no lost face
I have walked the silent paths of grief Sunless, dreary, cold and all alone. I have slept on beds of winter leaves
Oh death you are a cruel, mysterious thief. Although my heart weeps, and my joy has gone, I have never felt I was deceived.
I have learned that human life is brief. I have learned by sorrow we’re undone. I have sifted earth and what’s beneath.
I have felt the dark emotions seethe While I’m mocked by glaring, savage sun. I have learned the geography of grief.
I wait in patience for my life to ease. Will I know when my LastSupper’s come? Will my tale be written on a leaf?
Unconsoled grief can make us dumb Into our hearts, we drag the ice that numbs I have walked the silent paths of grief I have made my bed on winter leaves