Crows

by Peter Cashorali

Because we live on death it’s good to have a strong stomach. The young immortals we were, the original dreams we had that didn’t find footing on the earth, the way everything was, all gone, losses under our belts. Loss is our bread and butter, that and grief, and learning to live without. The deaths of our spouses, children, generation of friends—we weren’t supposed to be able to survive those. Didn’t we once vow to sit on the ground and refuse to go one step further into such country? Instead we’re like the crows, who learned there was nothing not on the menu—fruit, road kill, nestlings, French fries in a parking lot—and wear black in memory of who they once thought they were. As if everything that happens no matter how awful is good food on which to our shame we nourish and thrive, while envying those who give themselves mildly and sweetly to death, rather than learn to live on such dreadful fare.

Peter Cashorali is the author of Gay Fairy Tales (HarperSanFrancisco) and Gay Fairy and Folktales (Faber and Faber). He lives in Los Angeles with his husband Terrance Donley and has a fulltime psychotherapy practice.

Comments

By Victor D. Sandiego on Dec 16, 2018 05:04 (UTC)

Thank you Peter. Didn’t we once vow to sit on the ground and refuse to go one step further into such country? Yes, I believe that sometimes we did and this piece speaks strongly to changes and compromises – both in the world and in ourselves – that we didn’t see when life was a ribbon of years winding over an horizon we hadn’t yet crossed.

By Birute on Dec 18, 2018 21:40 (UTC)

Thank you, Peter,
Yes, if we live long enough we accrue loss after loss and what to do with that mountain of loses? Take a lesson from the crows. Stay hungry, stay focused, eat everything. Smiling.