The black dog

The black dog

When the black dog licks your heart,

Do you believe that it’s a wolf and try to run away?

Don’t you know that’s when it bites?

Don’t you know that’s when it brings you down?

Do you believe in every thought you ever had?

You could keep on chasing thoughts until your days are done.

But when the black dog licks your heart

What if you welcomed it instead?

What if you welcomed it instead?

I thought I knew I couldn’t cope.

I thought the weight would crush my chest.

I thought I had to slam that gate,

I thought to place that dog in chains.

Now when that feeling licks my heart,

It's raw, it's tender, a kiss of love,

I sense the wound that it’s nursing there,

I sense the scar dissolving now.

I sense the scar dissolving now.

© Tina Shettigara

10 July 2020

Don Quixote dreams of rainbows

Don Quixote dreams of rainbows

We loved each other’s company as teens

and it still holds true

so many years later.

There is nothing quite like the intimate captivity

of a long country drive

to test relationships,

ours so recently re-kindled.

Today the light was enchanting.

It rained and rained this morning,

Wet still, and cold, at noon, heading out,

clouds haunt the windmills,

green bursting from paddocks.

Who are you?

conversation exploring the contours of our mutual question.

Histories.

Motivations.

Creativity.

Families.

Light and shade, rain and mist, dance on the hills.

Oh, the fun we had, the shopping, lunch, the laughter.

And the drive back, through the hills, the rain gone,

the windfarms stand clear.

Suddenly on the road, not road-kill, but a teddy.

Poor sodden teddy, so pre-loved, lost and abandoned on the road.

We call him Don Quixote, because of the windmills.

A magic rainbow stands bright-clear in front of hills,

the gold of friendship.

Inside and out we are laughing, squealing with delight,

two old ladies, like teens again.

We stray to the sensitive places where we don’t agree.

Religion.

Your mystical experience. And mine. They do not match.

Is this fear? This flutter in the gut? Trepidation? Excitement?

Hope? for a resolution in this tension.

We let it hang. Again.

Don Quixote is left to dry on your veranda.

We part, planning our next reunion.

Love is here between us, the love of friends

Forged long ago, and yet as real today,

warm, and fuzzy and safe.

© Tina Shettigara
3 July 2020

Don Quixote after a bath and a brush

Wind turbines in fog