The Limits of Poetry

Nira frolicking in the water in Blue Lake, NY

My third guide dog Nira has gone wherever animals go when they die. Where do loyal hearts wind up? What's the point of love?


Kurt Vonnegut said our brains are too big. No wonder I can't imagine a heavenly reunion with my beautiful dogs. And if there's beauty in death it comes in dreams and they're slow and infrequent.


Oh Nira you were so glad to be with me. You kept me alive more than once.


Now I have your ashes in a small can.


Benjamin Franklin wrote: “Fear not death for the sooner we die, the longer we shall be immortal.”


How should a yellow dog be immortal?









Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

2 thoughts on “The Limits of Poetry”

  1. I’m so sorry for your loss. I would love to think that she crossed that cornball rainbow bridge and is frolicking with Corky and actually had an experience last year that made me believe that might be possible. Hope everything else is going well for you


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