24 August 2014

Please nurture the souls

Of our furred and feathered friends

They know not what they risk.

Our roads are many,

Long, windy and adventurous.

In our haste to advance, expand

And dominate,

We alter natures way.

Along the cross roads,

Where paths and trails meet,

Who spares a thought

For the life bounding along?

Another obstacle to dodge

And ignore,

Who cares to move them

Or to feel moved by their plight?

Stopped in their tracks,

Bodies strewn

In shocked finality.

Our graceful emblems,

Broken limbs pointing

North East South and West.

Their eyeless gaze

Tracing bloody entrails.

Tina Pech

The Fault in our Stars by John Green

I am not interested in dissecting books and writing and stories.

I am interested in how they make me feel.

How they make me think.

My emotional response.

I try to avoid summarising the story as so many seem to do.

I try not to be swayed by other thoughts and reviews and I definitely try not to bother about how realistic a story, it's characters and places may be.

After all, I mostly read fiction which, right from the start, is imagined.  

Made up.  

Not to mention that many authors give readers a message of intent in hope of avoiding confusion.

I don't know much about cancer.

My grand mother died of melanoma but that gives me no insight into others experiences.

This story made me feel light.

There was also heaviness, the type that comes with helplessness and sorrow.

And yet, there was so much elation and humour.

Who are we if we can't laugh despite everything?

Touchiness (touchy and touching), inevitabilities, fleetingness.

Sometimes it is hard to 'be'.

Sometimes we only have what we have.

In the face of death, experience surely becomes ageless?

Mostly I loved the small simplicities, the love and the aching beauty.

When the unfortunate inevitable occurs...

Though my mind has been wandering off on it's peculiar monologues as it often does, I must confess my sucky human crime while I am reflecting upon it and express my humble regrets.  Some might consider it a warped initiation and until this afternoon, I have escaped the hit and run ranks.

An extremely fast dark fluffy wallaby, I believe, darted out in front of me on my drive home today. I knew immediately that I would hit him head on and all I could do was brake and brace myself.  
If only I could have braced him.  
He bounced off the front of the car and glided into the road side grasses and in my shock, I kept going. Horrified by what happened and my spinelessness at not stopping, I prayed that he was dead on impact as I know that I wouldn't manage to deliver a final blow if necessary even though I was already responsible for his painful end.
There are aspects of the human condition that immediately nullify positive sensation.  
For me this is one of them.  
However, what I find even worse is that it all happened in a few split seconds and that's all it took for my pathetic mind to begin wandering off again on its peculiar monologue journeys, thinking that I should find myself some practical summer shoes.
I am not proud of my apparent lack of appropriate sensitivity, as I drove off into the sunset whilst leaving the suffering behind me.
As a driver, I feel partly responsible for all road kill.
It guts me.
For all that I manage to avoid hitting, there is always going to be one, somewhere, someday.
Is the first one the hardest? I doubt it.
I happily burnt rubber last Friday to avoid an echidna hobbling across the road. That was one lucky echidna!
So my poor wallaby friend, Despite appearances, I am very sad and very sorry and though it won't make much difference, I will plant a tree in my yard for you.