For Tommy
Though conceived in a cage,
Born in a cage,
And condemned to live (contradiction in terms)
In a cage,
I promise, little brother, that you will not die
In a cage.
For when your time comes, as it soon must,
Since a hamster’s life is very short,
I promise that I shall take you,
Palpitating bright-eyed hot little ball of fur,
Out of that cruel cage,
Out from the book-lined study where you used to play
Until you tired of its limits and constraints,
And where you had to be watched with such care
For fear you might get hurt,
Out even beyond the living room
You were occasionally allowed to explore,
Where you would scurry about
Vainly seeking an opening
Into that larger world beyond
That you knew must be there,
So powerful was the urge in you
Always to be moving beyond.
Yes, little love, I promise
That you shall enter that world, and there
Beneath the stars, after such long exile,
I shall watch over you, keeping you from owl’s beak,
Cat’s claws, rat’s teeth,
While your tiny inquisitive heart
Beats out its last.
But now, while there’s still time,
I feel that I must thank you, Tommy,
For all that you taught me:
Of the importance of chewing one’s food
Thoroughly and attentively;
Of how, when hungry, one should eat,
When tired, sleep;
Of how few, and simple, are our real needs;
Of the will, and personality, that exist
In even the tiniest of creatures;
And most important of all
Of how life, both yours and mine, was never intended
To be as it is;
Of how we were born to move,
Laughing, playing, and exquisitely equipped,
Through a scene itself in constant motion,
Looking, listening, sniffing, touching, tasting,
Fascinated by its riches, savoring its infinite delights,
And exulting in freedom.
Forgive me, dear Tommy, for failing to understand
That all power is evil,
That life was never meant to be caged.
Forgive me for not realizing, at once, that you too
Were a person,
And with a wisdom deeper than ours,
A wisdom lost long ago by men.
For you knew that life is freedom,
And, though you could never understand
Why I had to deny you yours,
Never did you judge or condemn me,
And for that I shall always stand humbled.
Sleep now, little friend, and dream
Of that freedom I could never give you,
Of your home in the hot Syrian desert, your dark burrow beneath,
Of those sparkling nights when you would emerge
In search of food, of the excitement of the find,
The joy of stuffing your cheek-pouches,
Of those secret and delicious feasts below ground
Before drifting back to sleep.
Soon you will move forever beyond
Man’s reach, and finally be free
To enjoy your life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . in death.
29 Sep '93
Note:
Tommy took ill with pneumonia and died on May 23rd, 1995. He was cremated and his ashes were buried on Mount Diablo in California. The day he died I took him into the garden that morning. He was ill and no longer able to walk, but it was a beautiful sunny day and he was fascinated by the smells and sounds and sights. I had to leave, and when I returned home later in the day I found him dead. His eyes were open, and he’d crawled halfway across his box as if trying to get back to the garden. I hadn’t been able to keep my promise. It was Tommy who first taught me about the importance of freedom.
