2 Poems by Barbara Leonhard
Saga’s Tale
You came to us, broken,
Probably abandoned because of your moods.
We learned fast. The grouchy nips,
The claws attached to our skin,
A reminder to pay attention,
Not to hold you too long,
Touch your back,
Or budge in the bed,
Disturbing your sleep.
Oh how you talked and talked,
Revealing your traumatic stories,
So we named you Saga.
Tolerated the outcries
Of your sad soul. Taught you to
Trust in us.
After my surgeries,
You stayed with me in bed,
Guarding the door.
The day you left the bed
Was the day I knew I could.
You loved the music students of all ages
And sometimes coiled up in their instrument cases
Or rested in a cushy pet bed by the front door,
Watching them come and go.
We’d warn the kids to think twice
Before petting you.
We called you Two-Pet.
One father didn’t listen,
Petted you a third time,
And you bitch-slapped his face
Three times.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Hard and fast, but without claws.
The grief you carried made you ill
With cancer and infections.
At one point, you were down to two pounds,
So I fed you every hour
Until you were up to ten.
My grumpy old man,
You fought so long.
When I called your name,
I was speaking to the deaf.
I scratched your head.
Pet you. You still purred,
Though too weak to stand.
You were fighting the inevitable.
I said, “We love you. Let go
When it’s time.”
But it would never be
The right time
For me
To let go.
~~
Homo Sanctus Sanctus
(A prayer for all those feeling hopeless during these fraught times)
Sacred Human,
When the well sinks into the deep.
When the songs ring flat.
When colors fade to ice and snow.
When the sun sets too fast, and
sleep is needed just to breathe.
When good tidings weep without solace, and
the strains of Noel are but tearful whispers.
No one can hold these holy notes alone.
You alone should not bear the burden of
dust to dust. This is sacred work,
to restore your Soul, despite the muddle
in the mundane, where your disquieted mind
diverts you from your path.
As you grieve, may we all be of service.
May we be the weavers drawing your threads
into the tapestry of grace.
May we be the space holders bearing up
your sorrow and offering the way for us all
to thrive.
Without you, Homo sanctus sanctus,
we will agonize.
We need you.
We so need you.
We cannot endure this chaos
without you.
Remember who you are.
You are the hymn, echoing love.
You are our healer, Homo sanctus sanctus,
as much as we are yours.
Copyright © 2025 Barbara Leonhard
All Rights Reserved
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