Two weeks ago today, death snuck into my home and took my amazing cat. It feels weird to call her my cat because she was so much more — she was convinced she was a human and sometimes she acted like it. (And to be honest, I liked her better than most humans.) At the risk of sounding like a weird cat lady, I have to admit, she was one of my best friends.
So you could say it’s been a rough two weeks. Adjusting to my new reality without Malachi (aka Mali, aka Kitty, aka Stinkyface) is a bit of a struggle. But as I’ve been stumbling and blubbering through these past two weeks, I kept thinking of something I wrote a year and a half ago when I was dealing with uncertainty about my future. (Don’t you just love it when something you wrote convicts you? Yeah, me neither. It’s annoying.) So although this poem deals with fear rather than grief, the message still applies. And I thought I’d share it with you — maybe it will help you heal or grow like it has helped me.
I Will Dance
They try to wrap their fingers
Around my very soul,
Drag me down into the depths,
A deep, dark, bottomless hole,
From which there is no return.
They assail me from all sides,
Fear and worry and doubt,
Trying hard to trap me in,
Make me think there’s no way out.
But there is a way, I know.
So I will dance on my troubles,
Because I know I must.
I will dance on my worries,
Trample them into dust.
I’ll raise my hands, praise my God,
No more doubt, only trust.
And I’ll dance my way across this life.
I will dance, and I will dance.