Of the little things, a religion poetry

Of the little things

It started a long time ago.

I was only twelve years old,

Facing death close for the first time.

My beloved cat was dying.

So I run to the only place I knew:

The church of the "One, True God".

I cried, and prayed for my baby.

A Man of the Cloth came to me,

Asking a desperate child that I was

What was wrong?

And, foolish me, told him.

And I learned it was a sin to pray for my cat,

Or to consider my pets members of my family,

Because animals don't have souls.

God is above mundane issues.

God is hurting me to test my faith.

(But doesn't He know everything?)

That priest made a crying child cry even more.

Not only that night, but for many years after.

I hope that when he dies he'll burn in his Christian Hell.

I was told many similar things over the years.

God is above mundane issues.

He cares not if you'll win the lottery,

Or if you try to lose weight.

He certainly does not care if you have a boyfriend,

Or if your cat is sick.

When you try desperate to find a parking space,

After a nightshift in hospital, dead tired,

He always looks the other way.

He's not the God of Little Things.

And it's always His will.

Not mine.

And, foolish me, I believed what I was told.

My mother told me so.

My teachers told me so.

Priests told me so.

They were wise people.

They knew better.

And I grew out to be a very confused adult.

Because, deep down inside,

I was still the child crying over a dying cat.

And the truth came to me through another cat.

It was a dirty kitten thrown into a garbage can to die.

I took her home, gave her shelter and food,

And a place to my heart.

And I saw the world through her eyes.

She told me of the One who cares about the little things.

Females usually do...

She cares for my hearth and all the creatures under my roof.

The Mother of all beings,

She loves Her children equally.

She's there at their birth, their life,

She's holding their paws at their sickbed

And guides them to Green Catnip Meadows when they die.

She cares if I'm broke,

Or if my lover left me,

And She's there for me,

No matter how trivial my need may seem.

Through the eyes of a kitten I saw the world.

What priests and teachers and parents told me,

Matters no more.

Wisdom lies in the most unexpected places,

Always in Nature,

Not in those who have walked away from Her.

Now the child inside me cries no more.

I'm at Peace.

Because I know that my long dead cat

Is at Peace.

In Her arms.

Mother of all creation,

Goddess of Love and Joy,

Of Death and Thunderstorms,

Thank you.

For my tomcat Rudy who died summer of 1982. And for all my kitties since...