A Place Far Away From This Dark Age Poem by Gert Strydom

The pink nose of my ginger coloured Persian cat is flat
and he has got whiskers are like antenna
and he watches the weavers
where they splash in their drinking bowl

and softly sneaks nearer
to where the little flock of birds are gathered
before he jumps in with teeth and claws
aimed at every flying thing.

Weavers twitter, sparrows chatter and some doves fly up
while dangerously he rocks up and down on their drinking bowl,
and splashes himself with water
as he has got a weaver in his mouth

while others try to attack him
as they dive down, turn and hang above his head
and the birds make shrill and agitated sounds
as if he is not able to catch them as well

It is then that I am really sorry for the birds
and his natural behaviour troubles me
when that cat brings his gift to me
and I do wonder about a world where everything is free,

where everything has got a own peaceful life
and no birds scream in agony,
where the boy and the lamb wanders with the lion
and it’s a place far away from this Dark Age.

[Reference: “Hemel” “Heaven” by Lina Spies.]