Harrowing moments later, a weary traveler takes sure steps towards his new home. By his side is his friend – a little mutt with a lisp in his bark. At his back is a country he once sought. He had found his way with a choice: he’d rather leave the place where tears aren’t orphans of a grieving heart than leave the ordinariness of friendship. Only then does he experience something truly frighteningly magical. A few feet from the gates, his faithful friend falls limply to his side, convulsing violently as his tender frame strikes the dust. The dog’s eyes are cold as stone, his paws as lifeless and rigid as a desert tree branch. Just then, stolen by a fright and angst, knowing that something is utterly wrong, the traveler rises in protest, and would be foolish enough to attempt to kill two immortals if not that something else happens. Suddenly, the convulsing violence of his friend’s carcass dematerializes, and like smoke from a writer’s cigar – heavy and erotic – a much grander being materializes. Out of awe or fright or necessity, the seeker’s knees give way, and he falls like his friend – who is no more – once fell. There before him is a god. Only a god can stare in silence and communicate a world of meaning. Soon, the traveler rises, placing his frail hands in the hand of a god. Together, between them a world of difference and yet a striking comradeship, a common pilgrimage and delight in the good, they enter through the pearly gates.
A Man, his Dog and a Heaven – Part 2
Posted by davidluiz in Poems