and nestles into my lap.
That’s when I can see that all my fears
are shared by countless others
who may already be living
the nightmare that I fear.
The feathered touch
of Ava’s tail as it twitches
across my forearm encourages me
to return to my Katrina moment
15 years ago,
To the very moment when I accepted
that I had no power over Katrina’s rampage
and all I could do was renew my faith
in the basic goodness of life.
That’s when I realized the futility
of trying to control the outcome of things
and committed myself to contending
with each moment as it arose.
That’s when things started to work out.
The reassurance of these memories
relaxes me and Ava stretches
to reposition herself.
I sense what a blessing I am
to Ava and what she means to me,
and I know without a doubt that
this virus cannot steal my spirit .
As I adjust my position in the chair,
Ava understands it as a signal that
our meditation is about to end.
So I give her three final strokes
and slowly raise myself to start my day,
and she leaps from my lap to start hers.