We made themin the image of our fears
to cry at doors
at partings - even brief
to beg for food at table
and to look at us with those big
aching eyes
and to stay with us
when our children flee.
And sleep upon our beds
on darkest nights
and cringe at thunder
as in our own childhood frights.
We made them sad-eyed
loving, loyal, scared
of life without us.
We nurtured their dependency and grief.
We keep them as reminders of our fear.
We love them as the unacknowledged hosts
of our own terror
of the grave - abandoment.
Hold my paw
for I am dying.
Sleep upon my coffin.
Wait for me,
sad-eyed,
in the middle of the drive
that curves beyond the cemetry wall.
I hear your bark
I hear your mournful bark
Oh, may all the dogs
that I have ever loved,
carry my coffin
howl at the moonless sky
and lie down with me sleeping
when I die.
~ Erica de Jong ~
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