A Eulogy For Carl

Carl the dead cow showed up on my doorstep this one fine eve

“I’m not here to haunt- just looking for a friend,” says he

“looking for someone by the name of Steve.”

“My name isn’t Steve,” I said back to him, “and I can’t be certain,” I said with a grin,

“if it’s the wisest decision or will end in a vision of my.. chagrin.

But Carl my man, you look like a fine guy,

you’ve got great teeth, and dirt inside your empty eye,

so if you’re up to it bro and down for the flow

I’d be willing to give this friendship thing a right rockin’ go.”

 

Carl agreed that although I was no Steve

he was lonely and sad, his heart needed to mend,

so I’d have to do as a stand-in Steve friend.

I invited him in, I made us some tea

then we sat on the couch this Carl and me.

I asked him what happened that brought him round tapping

at strangers doors on the the brink of this night,

what brought on his plight, what killed him- that’s right,

because after all Carl was still

a very bleached, very white, very dead bony skull.

 

Cow Skull 2

Carl did sigh and with a shiver and tear

he told me  his tale and thus was his deal:

“Good teeth did I have,” Carl began, “good skin as well,

good meat on my bones, and for this to me the folks would tell

in all of these earnest and honest sounding tones

that I was very lucky, said I had it all,

but all- all I had was no belief to recall,

no belief in their words because all I knew t’was how

they would enter my stall, carve the meat from my bones

because they wanted good steak dinner, tasty food in their homes.

Having what they desired, something after which they did long

was all I’d done wrong, being

endowed with God-given gifts my very single crime

and for this they made me pay time after time.

Each day they did come, carve pieces from my flesh,

stealing bit after bit until nothing was left

living death is what was left of me

at the end of my ordeal, surviving it all with breath

in my nostrils still. Breath whistling through my skull,

not very much more, living death is what I’ve become

after surviving that war.”

 

“Carl my man,” I said when he was done,

“your tale is most definitely a very grim one,

but you’re still here, are you not? Something was left

and it definitely couldn’t be something they forgot.

See the one thing you’ve got, that they never could steal,

was something inside of you, something too real

to touch, to damage, or carve off as a meal.

It’s the thing at your core that will always endure.

See this one little thing you seem to have forgotten

is something so special it can never go rotten.

This God-given gift that slipped out of your mind

is something you must try to once again find.

It’s what you were given at the beginning of beginnings

the reason you’re living- it’s what keeps you breathing!

Brother Carl, this thing I speak of

was born and created in that wonderful place

that place that is sated in God’s purest, deepest, most concentrated

love.

In that space your spirit was formed,

and then gifted, and then born, to you.

And this magical most beautiful fantastical

shining and sparkling blinding white light;

your soul,

is there within you. To have and to hold,

and Carl this soul, it will always stay whole,

no matter what and no matter who

tries to take it away from you.

Yes they’ll fail and they’ll fail and they’ll fail once again

for your light will endure whole, perfect, and shining

forevermore.”

 

Cow Skull 3

Carl took pause and looked up at me then

with those big gaping eye holes and said, “You know what man?

These words of yours they actually make sense

and they’ve managed to penetrate this skull of mine, though it’s dense.

You’ve given me hope which is helping me cope

and hang on and remember who I’ve been all along.

Although I can never get back what’s been taken,

it doesn’t mean that everything’s been forsaken.

For the thing that has died- a rather gruesome death I’ll add,

(I mean dude, I was literally fried,)

and it’s definitely sad and must be mourned and received,

believed and then grieved,

and let taken its very last breath

before letting go, burying, bringing to rest.

This thing that has died is not WHAT I am and it’s not WHO I am.

Your words have helped me understand

that although things happen TO me and AROUND me

they affect me but do not DEFINE me.

They told me I was nothing, I tell them I am NO THING;

undefinable, endless, a piece of the infinite and all-encompassing.

What has died is my attachment

to the boundaries put on me by others.

I get it now friend, how the thing that lives on

the eternal wham bam slam- it goes on forever and can never be severed.

But, stand in Steve, although I do believe in all of these words,

what on earth do I do with this little bit

of information?”

 

“Well Carl,” says I, “if you believe in it son,

rebirth yourself here, no doubt it can be done.

For death and birth are like sisters, so it’s been said,

and since you’re already dead, I’d say it’s about time

to give living a right good shot instead.”

 

And so friends the story goes that Carl arose

and went on to become

a very popular and very famous spokes-man.

Traveling the world, representing the masses,

all the lads and the lasses, the young and the old,

the ones with no speech, the ones who couldn’t teach;

it was for them that he did preach.

He tried his very best to do them all justice

by spreading his message as far and as wide

as he possibly could.

He would speak of what he’d seen and what to him it all did mean,

and at the end of all of his speeches he’d always conclude

with a little something to this effect:

 

“Friends,” he would say, “dearest friends.

My words may be harsh but please take it to heart;

If you rape your own kind is it really any question

that you do the same to your animals, your vegetation,

your planet, your home?

You’re not only raping others,

you’re essentially raping your very own selves.

Please hear my words as I beg an end to this insanity.

Please see and awaken to the truth of what was

and to where we shall return. As is written by the prophets,

a state for which I yearn. Isaiah foretells of the wolf beside the lamb

sitting side by side, for in this time peace shall finally reside.

Yes it’s up to us, up to you and up to me,

to open our eyes to the possibility

of bringing about this peace;

By changing our ways, through understanding our actions,

becoming conscious beings, and reclaiming

our compassion.”

 

Carl
In Honor and Remembrance; The Cow, The Myth, The Legend
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2 thoughts on “A Eulogy For Carl

  1. This is the most awesome combo of storytelling, poetry, fable, and too many life lessons on every level of existence. Amazing how all the rest of us see is oh, gross, a skull, and instead you bring imagination to a whole new level of learning.

    Liked by 1 person

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