"WHAT TABBY CAT HEARD"
She sat there rocking all her 80-some yearsby the warmth of the old fireplace;
was it memories of bygone days
or just the smoke rising from the fire
that made the tears streak down her face?
What would you say?
Moving her ancient shaggy-gray head, slowly . . . slowly . . .
to look out the window at the white blanket on the ground,
her mind raced back over the better times;
again she gave birth to the 7 that had now forgotten her.
Again she felt the pain, the blood, the joy
of receiving from God 3 girls . . . 4 boys;
and again she lived through the childhood of each,
their tiny faces tattooed in her mind . . .
for awhile she escaped the lost feeling of being left behind.
Now Tabby Cat moves on the old woman's calico-covered lap,
that lap where 60 years ago the first of the 7 sat.
Her gaze falls upon the fire in the hearth . . . .
Nine years now since her old man's gone
and since the night he died she's never really seen the dawn of a new day.
She will not forget him . . . he lives still in her heart.
She waits for a rap on the cabin's door,
but the 7 have forgotten . . . they come no more.
That night nine years ago . . . what had her old man said?
"Now you be good, darlin' . . . there now, don't cry . . .
and when the time comes for you to die,
I'll be here . . . somehow I will . . .
I'll come back from wherever I am for you"
and with that he left her.
This cold Xmas eve . . . and all alone,
her house was just that - a house - and not a home.
Her failing eyes had visions of a holy birth, a stable, and a virgin breast,
when at last the old woman laid down for a rest.
What then passed? Only Tabby Cat knows . . .
but the fire died out in the hearth.
7 births and 80 years . . .
and what sound came next? Only Tabby Cat heard . . .
the rap at the door . . . . . he had not forgotten her.
by Mary R. Chamberlin(9/17/66)
A sense of wonder on his face,
reconnected to the human race . . .
encumbered body now made light,
horizons broadened, soul takes flight.
Imagination knows no bounds,
his body now won't hold him down . . .
and it's a miracle to see
my Beloved set so free!
I'm thankful for such dear, true friends,
who thought and cared to see him soar . . .
friends who gave to us a key
to finally open doors.
Mary Chamberlin
December 7, 2000
"BREAKFAST THOUGHTS"
The napalmed babe falls to the ground,
crisp & crackly in the dust . . .
red & meaty, Post-Toastie style . . .
Snap! . . . Crackle! . . . Pop!
the mothers breast is torn full open, & milk flows out . . .
Ahhh, but how to sweeten this crime of champions?
Perhaps Great-Society sugar from the drawling Texas-mouth
will have to do.
Mary Chamberlin
May 10, 1968
OREGON WOOD NYMPH
- aka- The Awakening of Fern -
Stretching,
slowly yawning,
coming up into the light of consciousness
from the depths of velvet sleep,
I laid
upon the moss covered log-bed
while the blanket fog rolled back.
Leaned against the knotted pillow,
I bathed in morning mist & drank the dew,
surveyed the green & golden world about me;
affinity renewed, alive with Mother Forest,
hearing her breathing, feeling her heartbeats,
cloaked in mountain sun, I am
a wood nymph of the Oregon May;
one with the universe in this beautiful land
where lies the heart of my soul.
Mary Chamberlin
April 21, 1992
"REMEMBER ME"
When the bridge of trust is broken
and you can't find your way home
when you're on the street alone
remember me.
When the "vacation" is all over
and the money's all been blown
not a dime left for the phone
and you're on the street alone
remember me.
When you're hungry in your belly
and you're starved inside your head
and your heart feels like it's dead
when you're tired without a bed
and you're alone on the street
remember me.
When your friends have gone their own way
and you're tired of all the lies
pressure building up inside, got no place to run & hide
when the music never stops, the party just goes on and on
and you're tired of of getting stoned
and you think you're all alone
remember me.
In the timelessness of midnight, in the quiet hours of dawn
remembering childhood's home, while you're on the street alone
feel you've got no place to turn,
like your bridges have all been burned
. . . remember me.
Mary Chamberlin
April 1986
To my child on the run, (Karen, although it would later also apply to Kris . . . and could apply to any child on the run) . . . from mom
"TO MY CAT"
(For Rufus)
Eternally yours,
my dearest friend
confident, companion.
Steadily, stealthily, slipping through
the lavender fields of midnight
you are wild at heart . . . forever be,
even captured, always free . . .
a shadow in my dreams, you catch
moonbeams in your jungle eyes.
Know you, precious, love is gold . . .
and timeless bonds from days of old
connect us still, and always will,
my kitten-child of soul.
Mary Chamberlin
February 2, 2002
Last updated: Thursday, March 24, 2005