Cats' Eye

by Cherice Richere Wiggins

There was a young girl with the eye of a cat, and the need to experience everything that she thought that she could. So she lived on the edge of a mountain. One day she looked over the ledge and saw in the distance a sky full of brown, that seemed to be hanging above and around, a large group of people, who traded their lives, for a small piece of land and a promise to thrive, and survive beyond death for a life without end, and to learn how to know, and know how to bend, to the will of another. She wanted to find, what mystical power could possibly bind, all those people together, in one tiny plot, tied, one to the others denial and not to the heart of themselves. She went down to the town, questioned the people who gathered around, trying to learn why they stayed in one place, and clung to each other in such a small space. Spending their lives and surrendering youths, they said:

"Come to our master, he'll show you the truth! He'll tickle your psychy and make you feel good. He'll help you forget all the things that you should. You'll learn how to learn to forget what you know, and grow in a way that we want you grow."

"Ho! Let's take it slow." she said, "How do you know your master knows?"

"Our masters master told us so!"

"Oh" said she, "I think I see. Your masters mystery's not for me."

"No! You've got to wait! Our masters good, his masters great! They taught us how to masterbate! Not with our bodies in sensual sin, we fondle our feelings, it's safe, and it's IN." We go to the tribal church temple to prey, on each other and learn how the world's gone astray. As we turn on the turn around truth of the law, and kneel to the greed of the great holy flaw. We go with the feeling, and come to the glow. One view, you know, the ONLY way to go."

She searched for an answer inside of her head, by sifting and sorting the things that they said. Inspecting the core of the dream of the crowd:

"You sleep in the shadows, and live in a cloud! Your twisted and turned around truth is a lie, I'm yearning to live, and your learning to die!"

She turned to herself, and then turned away.

"If you frighten my sheep, and you lead them astray! Then you better had give them a place they can go...perhaps you don't know, what you THINK you know."

He appeared from the shade like a ghost in the sun, and for all of his world,
he appeared like the one. The mystical one, she'd been searching to find, the host of his heart, the king of his mind. The powerful learned one, towering tall, maker of mysteries, master of all. Molder of history, writer of wrongs, singer of serious, secretive songs.

"Come along," he said, "Just you and me. We have to talk, most seriously."

He took her away to a secret place, and showed her a secret side of his face.

"They need me!" he said, "Their lives aren't as it seems! They can't live with the truth, so I give them my dreams! They believe what is easy, it puts them to sleep. That makes me master, I make them sheep."

He spoke of a dream, but it sounded like lust, of his ego, creating a certain mistrust. Of a man and his dream, and his need to be more, he spoke about love, but it sounded like war.

"They're displeased with this world, in dismay with their lot. They pretend to be something they want, but they're not. So I give them my dreams, and they climb on my shelf, where they sleep out their lives in the back of myself. I create them with truth, they lay down for the law, I give them my dreams, and they eat them up, raw."

He rose and then he began to expand, as they seem to be holding their lives in his hand...

"They do what I tell them, and live with the pain, and stand in my fancy, heads up to the rain! Like a turkey who's thirst is much greater than sense, they scratch for the truth in my world of pretend!"

He paused and she studied this master of men, and knew he would cause his disaster again, and again, and again. And he couldn't be stopped, he'd adapt or adopt. For whatever would cost him the least or the most, a patriot's game, or the holiest ghost. He'd created a boss for himself for protection, in case of the loss of affection, or trust from the people he caught in the net that he wove with the lies that he told.

"Come with me now! Come in from the cold! I can make you a boss, not much smaller than me. You can live at the top, if you don't disagree, with the rules that I've made for the good of the best, and the good that I've done for the best of the rest."

She jumped from the back to front of her mind, as she struggled to severe the lie that would bind, her to him, the lie of his lambs, or his God, or his temple, or dark holy flag. Or the great golden rod which he held into place, as he stride on the world with the waste that he made for the people he graced. With his pomp and pretend and his bendable laws, she considered his dreams, and counted his flaws...

"You lie to yourself, and you strangle your youth! You break your own back when you shatter the truth! You pretend to be wise, then you rule with a fist, and you don't even know that there's puss in your piss! So you cry, like a wounded giraffe with his head in the trees and his feet in the mud, as you sink in the blood of the victims who'd given their lives to your lies. I leave you here now, tied, to your own alibi."

Time to break from this dream for the great common wealth, and go back to the search for the height of herself. The past falls in place, the future begins, living swirls like the sands on the soul of the wind.

The End

From: 
Cherice Richere Wiggins




Cherice Richere Wiggins's picture

ABOUT THE POET ~
Born in Los Angeles, but raised in the Palm Springs area, I am just a self employed mother of 4 trying to survive in a tough world. My poetry reflects mostly on my lifelong journey in my search for God. It takes about that long just to BEGIN to understand religion and who I believe God is.


Last updated December 28, 2011