| Obligations The old woman spoke, pausing to gaze into glowing embers of how she had avenged the baby goat, "I hunted that cougar and killed him... like what he'd done to mine." Hers had been but livestock for life's procreation had passed her by. Old eyes filled as the tale was told of a hunt begun and a deed done, "That cougar raised up and snarled his finest ever... then he was dead." Silence filled in space between the ticking of a clock on a relentless course. "That mama goat never lived long after that. Course, she was used up and old." The woman sighed a long, weary sigh of acceptance, knowing it was near time for our parting. Only memories would then fill a cabin devoid of voices to warm an old, lonely soul. "It was no pleasure but had to be done." she concluded. I traveled home, thinking of all the woman had said and how her life had paralleled the cougar's tale. Each life is such a story: adventures and heartaches made simple in the telling; victories made hollow as words filling an empty room with sound. A cougar-skin rug lies reposed in eternal bliss, beautiful as on that day of cold death... as will that grizzled old woman when her time comes. As will we all.wi THE POET SPEAKS: This tale came to me from a lady who owned a Utah campground. It would not rest in my mind until I had created OBLIGATIONS. She was a character I may draw upon in future writing, a very interesting person. Unwillling to join the religious teachings of that area, she remained a bastion of strength in her own convictions...rather a pariah. Definitely, she impressed me. |
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