Ghosts

 

I had a post all ready to put up.

It was about the three cats I look after, three very different, beautiful cats. Sylvia, Poe and Louis.

But Louis, the sweetest young boy, lost and hungry, who found me on the street and followed me all the way home, is gone.

The house where I cared for him, was robbed and trashed and he is gone.

Heartbroken. I can’t stop wondering where he is, what has happened to him. I hoped he may return but not so far. I have looked and looked and keep looking for him, I can’t help it, but he has disappeared and I may never know what happened to him. Sometimes life is so cruel. To be lost, dumped, however he came to be alone, and then found, only to be lost again, is so unfair. But life continually proves it is unfair so I don’t know why I’m surprised.

But it’s the uncertainty, not knowing. It is unfinished, like so many things. I can’t just put him out of my head, like, well, that’s done with, he’s gone, move on. He had a life, he was part of my life, if only for a short time, and he matters. I can’t just erase his being from my mind. But so many cats disappear, never to be seen again. The photos, haunting, of all the lost, loved faces staring out, that are never found. Will he just become another statistic, another shadow being never found? Another ghost in my mind??

I look out into the night wondering where he is, looking into every dark shadow that moves in the wind, every breath seems to reveal a potential movement, some presence, hiding, shifting, waiting.

Maybe, maybe…

All the movements at the corners of my eye. The sounds of a cat’s cries, faraway. My eyes scan the streets, the shadows.

I try to reach out to him beyond words, beyond time, but there is nothing, only my own desperation.

I hope those invaders of the night never have a moments peace or pleasure from their crime. Whatever they got from the memories and preciousness they stole, without a care, ripping through years of meaning and love without hesitation, taking whatever they liked, it was not enough, because what they stole was beyond price, something they could never understand.

But the greatest crime, the worst action of all, was against the life of an innocent, lost, young boy called Louis.

I’ll never stop looking Louis.

louis         dyl3

 

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3 Comments

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  1. He looks like a self-reliant little fella, does that Louis; he’ll be okay.

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