It's Still Life

Liturgy for the Fragments That Will Not Fit
(for the questions that multiply in the silence)

I. The Moulding of Reasonable Explanations
She tries to build a story
from the pieces on the table:
the ring with Mairi inside,
the spiral lock in its sealed envelope,
the photographs that will not speak,
the dogs that face the sea.

Perhaps Mairi was a friend.
Perhaps a relative no one mentioned.
Perhaps the ring was bought at a market,
a curiosity,
a thing without meaning.

But the engraving is too careful.
The name too deliberate.
And the lock…
the lock waits in its envelope
like a held breath.

She builds her explanations.
They do not hold.
They crumble like burnt toast
between her fingers.

II. The Envelope That Watches
DO NOT OPEN
her own words,
her own hand,
staring back at her
from the sealed envelope
on the mantelpiece.

She has protected herself from her curiosity
by making a promise
she does not want to keep.

But the envelope watches.
It knows she will open it.
It knows the question
is only waiting for the right moment
to become a demand.

III. The Cat That Belongs to No One
The neighbour’s cat is back
on the windowsill,
on the garden wall,
on the chair,
in the space between one house and another.

It does not seem to know where home is.
Or perhaps it knows too well,
and home is not a place
that can be chosen.

It watches her
with the patience of an animal
that has outlived many human certainties.

She offers it nothing.
It asks for nothing.
They simply exist together
two creatures who do not know
where they belong.

IV. The Dogs That Keep Their Vigil
And through all of it
the explanations,
the envelope,
the cat
the Staffordshire spaniels
keep their faces to the sea.

They have not moved.
They have not turned.
They have not given up
their long watch for a man
who did not come home.

Their eyes are black and clear.
Their patience is absolute.
They are the only ones
who have not asked a single question.

They wait.
They watch.
They keep the faith
that Fenella is learning
to question.

IV. For the One Who Has More Questions Than Answers

Take the hollow explanations that do not hold
may they teach you
that some truths resist
the shapes we try to give them.

See the envelope you have not opened
may it wait for you
as patiently as the dogs wait for the sea.

Trust the cat that belongs to no one
may it remind you
that some things cannot be solved.

Trust the dogs that face the harbour
may their vigil be a comfort,
not an accusation.

And to you, Fenella,
who sits with more questions than answers
may you learn to hold them
the way the dogs hold their watch:
without moving,
without despairing,
without giving up.

Not every question is a lock to be opened.
Some are simply doors
that must be walked through
when the time is right.