Monday, April 24, 2023

Gratitude Monday: Turning Darkness into Light

Within the space of a day a few weeks ago, two couples of my acquaintance lost four-pawed family members; one a floofy cat and one an old, old dog. Neither death was unexpected, but the great gaping hole in the family fabric is still palpable. And even though I’ve never actually met the particular animal in each case, I feel the sense of grief, even at a distance.

Today I’m grateful for the pets that enrich lives around them, amusing us with their shenanigans, comforting us in our sorrow, waking us at 0430 to insist it’s breakfast time somewhere…And I’m grateful for the people who make space in their homes and hearts for the critters, tripping over pet toys, putting veterinary clinics on direct deposit and willingly taking on the shattering grief when it’s time to let them go.

Today’s National Poetry Month post was going to be poems about cats and dogs, but I’ve been searching without success for a dog poem that isn’t treacly. So, here’s a photo of my sister’s dog Bindi, who is her companion and comfort.

For the felines, we’re going to a Ninth Century Irish monk, who jotted Pangur Bán in the margins (or on the back of a page) of a manuscript, with locations ranging from a copy of Saint Paul’s Epistles to the Book of Kells.

Clearly, Pangur Bán brought companionship and comfort to the monk.

“Pangur Bán”

I and Pangur Bán, my cat,
'Tis a like task we are at;
Hunting mice is his delight,
Hunting words I sit all night.

Better far than praise of men
'Tis to sit with book and pen;|
Pangur bears me no ill will;
He, too, plies his simple skill.

'Tis a merry thing to see
At our task how glad are we,
When at home we sit and find|
Entertainment to our mind.

Oftentimes a mouse will stray
Into the hero Pangur's way;
Oftentimes my keen thought set
Takes a meaning in its net.

'Gainst the wall he sets his eye
Full and fierce and sharp and sly;
'Gainst the wall of knowledge I
All my little wisdom try.

When a mouse darts from its den.
O how glad is Pangur then!
O what gladness do I prove
When I solve the doubts I love!

So in peace our tasks we ply,
Pangur Bán, my cat and I;
In our arts we find our bliss,
I have mine, and he has his.

Practice every day has made
Pangur perfect in his trade ;
I get wisdom day and night,
Turning Darkness into light.'

 

 

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