Menagerie
I did once have a menagerie in my mind,
or so it did seem.
But I deemed to wind it down
beyond my furthest finger’s reach
because I detected a hinting sound.
It was coming from one of its beings,
having trouble breathing.
Seems the mind above its chest
was constrained.
Constricted against all reasonable reserve
and growth.
Peace in its major portion.
Squeezed as one would do
a pressed rose
pulled from an earthly cradle.
Pleading as it goes
knowing it will never again fit its
bespoke place.
A true offense against public ease.
It was known to be a lone survivor.
A second-chance striver.
Mine solely by right of declaration.
Seems the fire of its initial flame
began with but an initial spark
and luck.
Not much more than a variant
on a simple theme.
I admired its straining
and woundedness.
Spirit sundered.
Dreams despondent.
Life broken.
A whimpering sound of pleading.
Behaving as if it was a sole memento,
with dangling tendrils.
Trembling as if it already knew,
ultimately,
it must be dust.
In the old order of things,
passing away.
And, as fact,
it would not down.
It did not realize
if you want to live forever
the rules are different.
Should I choose, I can throw veils, veils
and more veils over it.
Attempting to shift its thinking,
as only apology can do.
So, why do I tremble knowing it ultimately
must be dust,
disbursed over treacherous terrain?
I told it,
there is time yet on the clock.
If you let me, I can be your tiger.
And I can do this without blemish,
but with faith in replenishment
and redemption.
What profit is there to keep it down?
Along with the past,
this is all I can remember.
Beyond that, what more can I do?
I will lift the leash from this wild bird
and see what it will do.
Godspeed.
Good speed.
And so I did, for its salvation.