Painting: Bird Form

Bird Form

Remember how the wild bird flew,
How the morning and the evening
Were the first day
Of the rest of his life?
Remember how the hunter
Missed his mark
And watched the bird form
Hurtle toward the setting sun,
Then sat, lit a smoke
And wondered at the mystery of the universe.

Copyright 2006 by M. David Orr

The Yin Yang of Dogs (see poem following)

Black Dog Heart

I cut down through skin, gristle, bone,
Like a surgeon through a patient's chest,
To find his heart--
Beating, beating, beating,
Black with sin.

Christian evangelicals
Believe that people can be saved
Without a human doctor.
The Holy Spirit comes
And cleans the heart,
And we are free
To sing the praises of our God;
At least, that's what they tell
The ones they're trying save.
"Trust God and all goes well," they say.
But after months of
Singing hymns of praise,
Praying, witnessing,
Reading the Word of God,
The heart turns out to be the same old one;
So then they tell the story of the fighting dogs—
One white, one black,
And life becomes a battle of the two.

I was one of those I sought to save.
I thought I had a black-dog heart,
And so appealed to God.
I thought I got a brand new heart,
Then, I thought I had two hearts—
One black, one white—in constant war.

Every year the white one grew,
And every year the black one grew as well.
So, after thirty years I found that I
Was still at war without a shred of peace.

Then, I wondered
Was there more to this?
I noticed that the white dog made his plans
And carried out so very few of them.
I noticed that he vowed to never look,
Then looked at every tit that jiggled by.
I noticed that he blamed the other dog.
This other dog barked blasphemy,
And pissed upon the whitewashed fence
Every time the white dog painted it.
Every time the white dog lorded it
In choirboy clothes,
The black dog splashed some mud.
Every time the white dog made a peaceful vow,
The black dog covered it in blood.

One day I put a fence around my yard,
Drew a circle that included both my dogs,
And asked some questions I had never asked before:
"Why is it they fight?
Why is the black one bad?
What is the white one trying to suppress?
And what is it the black one finds to loathe?"

I asked them both to speak to me,
The black one first,
And here is what he said:

"He barks too loud and long
About his color,
Steals my food,
Chases away my doggy loves,
And with his pious praying
Steals my sleep."

The white one interposed,
"If I don't keep him down,
He'll gobble all our food
And chase the days away
With every bitch he sniffs;
And I don't care about his sleep."

I was surprised how harsh the white one was.
I liked the black one’s point of view.
He was so very practical.
He wanted just to eat his food
And join the chase to reproduce
And not be praying
When a decent dog should sleep.

The white one worried
They would have too much
Of nourishment or sex.
He didn't trust the black one
To be full and quit the plate.
He was concerned about the choice of mates.

The white one made another speech.
"His only loves are of the flesh—
His food, his drink,
His fragrant bitch—
What of the praise of God?
He doesn't care at all."

The black dog soon replied.
"Look, this praising God
In public makes me sick.
I'm dog from tail to nose:
I smell, I bark, I chase a ball,
I run to catch the lithesome bitch.
And God? Well, God made me this way,
And I like God for it."

Some years of dialog
Went by between the two.
I passed the circle where they lay
Curled like puppies on a rug--
The white one's head upon the black one's rump,
The black one curled upon the white.
They made their own organic circle,
Dark and light,
And they became the best of doggy friends.

Copyright 2006 by M. David Orr

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