This Small Glory-Beast

This Small Glory-Beast

By: Alexander Ruggieri

I wanted to share this poem written by my brother-in-law in response to his dog's passing away:

His gentle, faded golden field

        Envelope his earth from nose to heel

Sulking and weary, when once was taut

        Wrinkled and heavy, youth glory naught

                Losing a battle he never fought

 

His breathing once quick and shrilled

        Hastened spring’s sprints, playfully thrilled

Now slow in winter’s melancholy

        Raspy and weak, no season’s jolly

                Sin-suffering, woe to human folly

 

His sweet soulful eyes, ever enthralled

        As memories of stares and winks were recalled

Spoke to me, “why?” O, Solomon teacher!

        Why must he die? O, foul is this feature!

                This innocent, iniquity-absent creature!

 

Pitiless people, putting life to sleep

        Not from their needles, but from sins that all heap

This parable speaks of mystery’s intent

        To uphold the curse forbidden fruit has sent

                While all wonder under Firmament’s lament

 

Alas, time came to a pause

        Eternal sleep’s coming, to cause

All limbs to linger, live sessions to cease

        His confusion the greatest, his pain the least

                 Last minutes and moments, this small glory-beast

 

He’s labeled small, yet discovered right before

        The dust of the earth had opened its door

That glorious is he, who declared God’s being

        And beautiful, all inches of nature now fleeing

                Injected the end! Yet Christ in heart freeing

 

No, not the end of companion’s script

        Even as now, twelve years depart in the crypt

“Not the end,” gently whispered, hovering his ear

        Creation’s redemption, earth’s birth-pains are here

                Satan’s lie of a victory is never to fear! 

 

He groaned, a historical sound of old

        Awaiting the sons of God to be clothed

He twitched and relaxed, now death slowly seeping

       Christ knows the answer to Creation’s weeping

                This hope!  Redeemed glory!  Death is mere sleeping!

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