Today I took my cat back to the vet
so that they can try and save his kidneys.
Three days. They will labor against this threat
for three days. “We’ll try our best.” But kitties
die just like the rest of us and, “our best,”
often isn’t good enough. After three
days then what? For years he slept on my chest.
For years he was my love, my refuge, he
witnessed what no one else has, what no one
else will. Three days of waiting, of patience,
of fear, of, “I did my best.” Is it wrong
when we say that? Grief, not sin, damns us. None
who read this will come in time. Let absence
break me. Today here, love. Tomorrow gone.