As its name is intended to suggest, this feature of The Zoo Fence is a catchall,
where we place assorted stuff whose proper place is uncertain
but which we are nonetheless moved to share.

May I Go Now?

On Monday, January 8, 2001, The Zoo Fence's dearly beloved and intensely loyal four-legged friend died — peacefully, painlessly, and gracefully.

Our hearts are wounded, and bleeding. Soon, a scab will form, the wound will heal, and we will recover. But never will we be the same, for her life and her death impacted us indelibly.

By coincidence (whatever precisely that may mean), some few days before the eighth, an anonymous visitor to The Zoo Fence alerted us to this poem, for no stated reason. But we are convinced that our four-legged friend, who towards the end was suffering physical pain, wanted us to read and heed these words, and that it was she who, in some way we do not fully understand, arranged to have them brought to our attention.

This poem appears on numerous websites across the internet, and is attributed variously, but most often as “Written for a beloved pet & friend by Susan A. Jackson”. Grateful to the author and the TZFer, we reproduce it here for its aptness to our own circumstances, and because it might be appropriate to other visitors to The Zoo Fence.

May I Go Now?

May I go now?
Do you think the time is right?
May I say goodbye to pain filled days
and endless lonely nights?
I've lived my life and done my best,
an example tried to be.
So can I take that step beyond
and set my spirit free?

I didn't want to go at first,
I fought with all my might.
But something seems to draw me now
to a warm and loving light.
I want to go
I really do.
It's difficult to stay.

But I will try as best I can
to live just one more day.
To give you time to care for me
and share your love and fears.
I know you're sad and afraid,
because I see your tears.

I'll not be far,
I promise that, and hope you'll always know
that my spirit will be close to you
wherever you may go.
Thank you so for loving me.
You know I love you too,
that's why it's hard to say goodbye
and end this life with you.

So hold me now just one more time
and let me hear you say,
because you care so much for me,
you'll let me go today.

(For more about this event, please click here.)

A Woman Gave

A woman,
bless her well-intentioned heart,
gave birth to me.

At the very selfsame instant,
she gave death to me …
for delivery on some future date unspecified.

Now, I thank her for her effort expended on my behalf, but
after careful consideration, I choose to accept neither as mine.

Instead, I choose to seek a different identity,
one that transcends both birth and death.

Tick Tock

Yesterday, I forgot to wind the clock.
I’m busy today, so
I’ll do it tomorrow.
And yet,

If the clock’s not ticking
Tocking,
How will I know when tomorrow's
Here, now?

Oh, dear. What have I done?
Am I to live and die
Wondering what day
Today is.

Um. What if today tomorrow yesterday
Is just a sweep of the hands?
Not distinctly then, or even when.
Only now

Seen differently?
And my haunting memories, my whetting expectations,
Aren’t tall ships upon some distant sea,
But here, me.

Agh! I wish I had wound the clock,
Yesterday.
Whenever that was,
Now.

At TZF’s Open Forum, now in read-only format, during a discussion about duality (light & darkness, perfect & imperfect, infinite & finite, heaven & earth, and so on), a suggestion emerged that perhaps God had made a “mistake,” which idea generated the following outrageous image in my head.

A Divine Reconsideration
or “Oops, I, uh, Erred”

The time is the present. Seated around an oaken conference table are God, Satan, Adam, and Eve.

God: (to all) Thanks for coming in this morning. I appreciate it.

Satan: (grumbling) You didn’t give much notice. Besides, the way Your people treat me, I’m surprised anyone up There remembers me.

God: (to Satan) Still the whiner, after all these years. (to all) Okay, to business. What I wanted to tell you is that I’m going to be making a few changes.

Adam: (concerned) Changes? I thought You said Your stuff was immutable.

God: (without apology) Yea, well, I lied. Anyway, here’s the thing: I’m afraid of the dark. (adding, quickly) I know, I know, it doesn’t seem possible. I hardly believe it MySelf. But there it is. I’m afraid of ghosts and goblins and bumps in the night and all that eerie stuff.

Eve: (a little brusquely) What’s the big deal? We’re all afraid of the dark. Just get YourSelf a night light and a baseball bat.

Satan: (with pride) I’m not afraid of the dark. (with cunning) If You want, I’ll come up There at night, and keep You company.

God: Actually, I’ve decided that what I’m going to do is back the whole thing up, all the way to Genesis 1:1, and start over. This time, I’ll be more careful, and avoid the duality thing altogether. So, there’ll be just perfect, no imperfect. Just hot, no cold. Just up, no down. Just good, no bad. And like that. Most importantly, there’ll be just light, no darkness. (God pauses a few moments before continuing, a little tentatively) Oh, and yea, here’s the other thing. This time there’ll be just Me. No you.