There is a phrase in Russian, ‘na ptich'ikh pravakh’, having birds' rights.
To live ‘na ptich'ikh pravakh’ means not having proper rights to occupy space (i.e., no correct documents or inability to pay rent) but being temporarily tolerated and allowed to remain.
What rights do birds have?
And why birds?
Why not say opossums' rights?
The flattery of wings? Geography? Lack of stability?
Can the lack of stability be something stable, constant?
If you're constantly absent, does this make you reliably absent?
The bird can sing and leave.
I do the same, but behind me snakes a trail of debt and obligations, a chain to keep me within its reach, stones available for throwers. Personalized gravitational pull.
* * *
In the world of confusion, only a dog knows the truth.
But we rarely listen to dogs. We forgot how to listen.
A dog knows what would make us happy. Because it's precisely that which would make a dog happy: a walk in the woods, smelling the fresh air, that sense of well-being which only comes when you can commune with nature and feel fully present.
A dog is not interested in words.
Words are the mythological woods in which humans get lost instead of visiting the real woods and taking long walks with their dogs.
A dog knows the danger of words. That's why it can understand all human languages.
It knows to smell beyond words. Because words are only shells. What's essential lies within, beyond the shell. And the shell may be misleading, a disfiguring perception of the shape it contains within.
A cat also knows it all but doesn't have the patience to deal with human stupidity and stubbornness. A cat knows – it is futile to change us.
Dogs are more hopeful.
* * *
Living life in dogs' years.
How many dogs will still adopt me?
My childhood's big Sheila, then Toto and Daisy (all three were still alive when I left Russia for New York at the age of 17.)
Then came school years without a dog, living on ptich'ikh pravakh here and there. For a while, I managed to keep a lizard at the Juilliard dorms, but it was difficult to shop for live worms and keep them all hidden.
The moment when I rented my first apartment – little Sheila joined my life. I named little Sheila after big Sheila who died peacefully in my father's arms in Russia after I left for New York. Little Sheila also died in my father's arms, but in Boston, many years later. She was aging, she was ill, and I knew my father would take better care of her than I, in my birdy ways, fluttering from one city to the next.
And for the last two years of Sheila's life, there was Finek, whom Sheila hated as only an old cranky dog may hate a young puppy, who stole her human's attention and love. Finek didn't steal my love, for I still loved Sheila. Sheila was Sheila, and Finek was Finek.
But I knew she did not forgive my betrayal with another dog.
The moment Finek appeared, Sheila realized she was no longer the only one.
Even today, many years later, I still feel guilty about it. Never sorry for getting Finek, but sorry for hurting Sheila in doing so.
Dogs are supposed to be forgiving? Not so sure.
But for my father, Sheila was still the only one. She's buried in Boston next to my aunt's house.
* * *
My life in dog-lives…
At night I protect Finek's dreams.
He snores. His legs jerk – he is dreaming.
His dreams often turn into nightmares, and he cries.
I gently wake him up. He falls asleep again, breathes quietly.
Does he ever dream about me?
Am I the cause of his nightmares?
Dear Ms. Auerbach,
I am a poet, but I did not know that you are also a poet. I know you as a musician and a brilliant contemporary composer. I have heard the great violinist, Hilary Hahn, perform your work. In fact,I think you have a piece in collaboration with Ms. Hahn for tonight!
Your words on our pure love for our animal companions are very moving, honest, and true. I love what you have to say about cats, too. They do know us humans. Have you ever read Cesare Pavese's "the cats will know," surely one of the saddest poems.
"Who am I/the worm of the earth/always with the animals." -- Saint Francis of Assisi
Thank you for your exciting and provocative music and for your sensitive and compelling words on such an essential theme.
Posted by: Emily Fragos | December 13, 2020 at 06:32 PM
Dear Emily, glad to connect. Thank you for your kind words. Yes, there was a work of mine performed by Hilary Hahn on-line. It is still available until Dec. 19th. Wish you all the best and looking forward to getting to know your work.
lera
Posted by: Lera Auerbach | December 17, 2020 at 12:31 PM