Day 7

Rest Day in Melbourne "Out, Black Dog"

A welcome rest day today and I'm staying with family which is always special. I'm not feeling very creative so I will share a poem with you which was emailed to me by the author Jody Robb who obviously was feeling creative and passionate when she penned "Out, Black Dog".

Out, Black Dog

The black dog never gladly wags his tail

Nor barks his greetings at my gate.

He quietly squeezes beneath the back fence -

When it's dark. . . And lonely . . . And late.

* * * *

The black dog never brings stick nor ball,

Nor rope-bone (all floppy, dog-eared)

But every time he's finally gone, it seems,

Something has just disappeared.

* * * *

The black dog never yaps, nor yelps,

To give our game away.

Silently keen to fetch my old bones,

He pretends he's here just to play.

* * * *

The black dog never snarls nor growls,

Nor even bares his teeth;

Until suddenly I'm on the ground:

Pinned and struggling beneath.

* * * *

The black dog never grinds his jaw

To saw at weakened flesh (I expect)

Until his choking, slobbering maw

Has sucked away all hope of breath.

* * * *

The black dog's snarl may well drip greedily

With the blood of souls bereft.

Myself, I pray never to see nor hear him feed.

I plead the final dregs of any faith left.

* * * *

The hunting black dog's haunting howls,

(Heard only by the hunted)

Can stop the bravest hearts and chill bowels.

Its prey hides amid fears un-confronted.

* * * *

Try to stand and face that soul-rattling call!

Know, that, deep within its hellish cavern,

That black dog will, finally (from hunger) fall . . . .

And rot; decayed by its own bitter gall!

* * * *

Remember; far above that feared, deathly, den,

Love lives upon this earth; as does heaven.

So, trust living dogs to always chase things

And willingly bring them back again.