Do you remember
the first time
you and Death
met?
I do.
You were seven
We moved to Wiltshire farmland
an old stone and brick house
built upon an underground river
a seventeeth century pub
and the river ran
through the cellar
to keep the spirits cool
but it kept us cold and damp
No heaters, just coal grates
one in each of the two
ground floor rooms
no fires to warm the upstairs
where we slept
where icicles gathered
on your father’s whiskers
in those long winter nights
and where oil lamps
gave more heat than light
The wind always whistled
across the chimneys
and through our bones
even in the midst of summer
~ * ~
Just over the rise,
on Lord Bath’s park estate,
animals roamed free,
outside the tunnel cages
built for people
Here a baby elephant,
named Zola Bud
an Ethiopian famine-rescue
brought to a queen’s land
lived amongst giraffes,
one-hump camels
and a little girl of seven
Zola and the child,
sisters at play
one carried the bucket
the other trotted behind
trunk on shoulder
like a child’s extended arm
elephant shadowing
everywhere the child went
One warm spring day
released to the sun
and allowed to play
she fell into the bog
her heart, still frail
scarred from starvation
stopped its sweet beating
Do you remember?
The only shadow
that followed you then
was Death
your first one
an Ethiopian elephant
silent and spent
http://magpietales.blogspot.com/ Mag 34 The Oil Lamp
Photos courtesy of google images
Brokenpenwriter's Blog 
This is so tragic. It just makes my heart ache. Very beautifully written.
Mine is here. http://razzamadazzle.wordpress.com/2010/09/30/mag-34/
Thank you, Teresa. I always experience death as a huge event; in this case, an elephant-sized, sadness.
This tugs at the heart, so bittersweet and tender, and how abruptly and inexplicably death enters into a child’s world…
abruptly – perfect word. There is no other that describes death as well – no matter how prepared we are, always it ends abruptly – once here, now gone. Done. Thank God we can remember.
This was a beautifully written and haunting tale. Nice writing.
Thank you, Susannah. The tale, hauntingly sad as it is, is true.
how moving, it reminds me of how I felt when I was a child, my family members got sick…
skilfully written tale,
your words paint such vivid images, unforgettable piece…
loved your gentle heart in portraying the sadness from a child’s eyes.
Thank you, Jingle. It is hard for children to see suffering and death, even though they don’t understand the finality of it – luckily, they have the ability to cry one moment and start laughing and playing the next.
Being an animal lover this breaks my heart. Zola what a beautiful elephant!
It was a real tregedy, but we were consoled a little by the fact that when she came to England, her crust-infected skin hung like a sheet on her bones, and by the time she died, she was plump, healed and a happy little adventurer. And she died on a stunningly beautiful spring day.
So sad and yet so interesting too! Reminds me somewhat of Psalm 23. Wanna come see my Magpie? It’s at http://thelunaticsdiaryblogspot.com
Thank you, luna, and interesting, your comment as well – I never thought of that. I’d love to visit your site. I’ll be there in a minute!
Hi Shigune, I tried to read your site – took several tries to reach it (kept getting a statement that it didn’t exist) and finally got through. After entering my comment, it wouldn’t accept my name, despite doing everything twice. Sorry, I gave up after that.
A poignant account linking death with childhood, not usual companions…
Fortunately these days, that’s often true; only 50 years ago that wasn’t the case.
intriguing write…you hook me right from the beginnning witht he question…because i have…so sad,,,glad you shared a bit more in the comments…elephants are so majestic…
Thanks Brian. Sometimes I tell my daughter that one of the unique things about her extraordinary life – one that has included many animals, large and small, wild and tame, is that the first person she lost to death was an elephant. I mean, how many people can say that? And in England, of all places! Yes, it was sad, and I really appreciate your comments, as always. Bless you for all the work you do for writers – especially the encouragement.
Such a sad story so well told.
Thank you for your kind words on my blog.
Thank you, Myrna.
such a heartbreaking tale made worse by the fact that it is true
Rene
Yes. I agree. I loved your site and left a comment on one poem. Have added you to my blogroll after reading your About page. I hope that’s okay. You have a lovely heart worth sharing.
I can’t even imagine seeing one in that kind of setting, so up close and personal and without zoo rules. And then to lose her, so so sad.
The lady who was the keeper of the giraffes and camels (one-humpers) was our friend and she was given the care of the orphan baby elephant. We visited her on weekends, and the first week my daughter was shown how to rub vaseline all over her cracked and parched skin. Even then, when Zola was in such poor condition, she followed my daughter everywhere. I guess she was the only thing small enough to look like a sister. Everybody else had big humps or long necks!
Brilliant portrayal!
Thank you tumble.
Bittersweet memory. Beautifully told, Brokenpen.
Thank you so much Willow for your kind comment. Coming from you this is quite a reward; your writing is stunning.
this is a heart-touching story told so poetically. Thank you. I really enjoyed the flow and tone and sentiment of it.
Thank you so much and glad you enjoyed it. Touching hearts is always a good thing – keeps us in touch with our spirits.
Ouch. Painful and beautifully told. Well done.
Thank you Jen; I appreciate your kind comments.
This brought a tear to my eyes. Masterfully written and incredibly sad.
Thank you for your kind words and comments. I really appreciate your visits.