Spiritual Exercise
by Marda Messick
My friend told me the man who was my enemy
has lost his rage along with his words. She’d seen
a video of him, happy, stroking a mechanical cat.
I bought a cat like that, once, for sadness.
It was hard to the touch and made a ratcheting noise,
so I returned it for a refund.
The man who was my enemy loves his robot cat.
He forgets to hate me. No more snarling.
He’s gentle as a kitten.
My friend told me this at breakfast after church,
where we were commanded to love our enemies
and our sins were taken away.
A real cat wants to sit in my lap. I almost never
love the cat, though I am in my right mind,
and she has done me no harm.
I consider the lilies, the sparrows, the last and the least.
The cat purrs warm under my hand.
While we were yet enemies, grace.
Marda Messick is a poet and accidental theologian living in Tallahassee, Florida. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Christian Century, Delmarva Review, Literary Journal, and other publications.
