The poem is too desolate for me right now. It's too cold. I'm not saying I don't agree with it. But it isn't any comfort. Sorry.
I stayed up until 3:30am because I heard coyotes. I had to leave Nilly in the front yard, so any death smell wouldn't attract scavenger/predators to the back with the chickens and goats. I left my front door open, but sat on the porch for a long time, waiting for a sheriff I'd called but who never came. I wanted welfare checks for the night.
I finally lay down at 3:30 and slept 'til some time after 5, when the babies started screaming again. I let the ducks and geese out of the house and the goats out of the back yard.
I drank only one cup of coffee, wheeled Nilly to the dirt pile and began covering her. I've got one layer on her, but it's not enough. But my arms and legs are so sore from working on her for six hours, I can barely walk or carry things. I put an old pallet on top of her and came in the house to lie down.
I heard a ruckus in the front yard: chickens hollering , cats running in, baby goats screaming, trying to get in the front door.
Two dogs outside, after the baby goats, Willy trying to fight them off. They ran into my back yard. The big one had a bloody mouth. I picked up a PVC sewer pipe and smacked him over the head a few times, since he'd cornered himself in my fence. I let them run out. Weasel chased after them. I don't think they'll be back.
As I started to walk back out, I saw that poor, frost bitten rooster, who'd just regrown his tail feathers, father of a new nest of eggs, lying dead by the duck pond.
I ran out front. The baby ducks and geese were huddled together, right in the open, dead silent. I called to them and they all came to me.
The hens may all be hiding under the house. I heard one singing just a minute ago; it's about four hours later.
My legs are so cramped, I can barely walk. My arms and hands are so tired, it hurts to type this.
I will push more dirt over Nilly tonight and tomorrow morning. There's a heavy, iron grate, looks like some sort of farm equipment, about fifty feet from her grave. It must weigh two hundred pounds. I've sort of moved it before, to get something under it. I'll drag to Nilly's grave, once I've used that entire pile of dirt (10 feet long, six feet wide, two feet tall) to cover Nilly.
Before I started digging, I let the babies come to terms with her. They smelled her all over, especially one ear the little nanny liked to chew. They smelled all the hoses and tubes, tools, blanket, sofa cushions, the chair I sat in and the bucket my neighbor sat on. They even smelled my iced tea glass. They're not crying now. They all came to the grave and smelled her before I started covering her.
Willy, bless his heart, gently butted the dirt around her, once I'd started covering her, trying to uncover her so she could get up.
I think they all know she's gone now. The babies might cry a bit more when they crave milk and at bed time.
She was full of milk when she died. She was a great mother. She was taken from hers at a week old. I don't know how she knew all the wisdom of raising babies, but she knew.
She protected Willy constantly, since Willy is the gullible and trusting one. She protected those kids. She always warned me when someone was coming too close to where ever we lived.
She liked to eat cigarettes, cardboard boxes, junk mail, hard candy and those molasses cookies I'd bake with medicine hidden in them.
I can still hear her voice. Damnedest thing: I could swear I heard her calling me this morning.
The consciousness of that being was amazing: brave, kind, curious. She had an incredibly complex sense of humor. She never suffered fools lightly. She thought the sun rose and set in me. I could see her eyes smile when she saw me. Goats don't have many facial muscles for expression. They tell you what they experience through placement of ears, tail, stance and eyes. I always knew what she was telling me with those eyes. I held her eyelid up so she could see me most of last night, allowing for blinking. She watched me steadily. I could see how weary she was. I could see she was sad. I did not see fear. I saw a little pain near the end. She looked at me with complete trust, even when I was hurting her.
I never stopped talking to her the entire time.
My legs are on fire. I need to eat. and drink something.
She was an amazing gift in my and Willy's lives: a truly noble creature.
Everything melts
burns out:
lamp lamp-shade
the light itself
with no shade left
no world
belongs to you and you
belong
to no world
you are pulled
by rain and light
on roads coming
and going
from everywhere
to everywhere
Jaan Kaplinski
The Same Sea in Us All
Translator: Sam Hamill
No comments:
Post a Comment