drawing by Medi Belortaja

My Cat, the Existentialist

Imagine always having to wait 

for someone to feed you;

having to rely on the kindness 

of otherworldly familiars

who often appear remote, 

if hopelessly preoccupied.

Wouldn’t you sharpen your senses

into one long prayer?

Imagine if your God lived 

right down beside you

but kept departing the premises 

for God knows where.

Imagine realizing that to be loved

was all that could assure your survival

and to love kept you 

in treats and fresh water;

wouldn’t you use your tongue

to make yourself more beautiful?    

Imagine a God so unpredictable 

or unmanageable that you

are forced to cry out

for everything you want.

And finally, if set free

could you watch over yourself, 

when like you, your God

is always in danger 

of putting himself first?

2/1/22