miwu: set in stone

by Dagger

A statue that seems to hold a life inside.

Yeah, look into those blank sandstone eyes. See it? There.

That's Bast. And those eyes aren't really so blank. Not at all. Because there's a cat in there. Not just there, no. Everywhere.

Sometimes less than a teasing brush against your senses; at others, claws embedded in your mind, grabbing your attention, making you push your legs out from underneath you, to move and listen and watch, and ever reminding you of Her presence.

I see Her in those moments where there's a gap in the clouds and the sun streams through. I see Her in the black cat that makes his home in my territory. Others cannot do the same, but he can, and She can. I see Her in a puddle of water. In the reflection. The reflection in me, however bold and foolish it may seem to say so. But then, I see Her reflected by other people too; those in that stall in the market who stare at similar statues, those other animal-people that identify as cats on the internet. She looks out of them too and you don't need to look for Her; She's always looking at you.

Bast is not a laid-back God; she can be, but that is not Her. She can lie on her side and swat at falling leaves with me, but She can also be forceful: swipe at them when they snarl at you. She purrs with me when I'm content, and purrs for me when nothing comes out of that human throat but a choked hiccup. Helps me where I have difficulty. She tucks Her tail neatly around her feet and listens. She listens with ears that hear five-times the depth others do. Problems and fears and feelings and hopes. She takes them and shapes them, and makes them into confidence. Gives reassurance and acceptance. Motivation. She dips into my reserves and makes them known, so I can use them. Gives me a different perception.

She's a cat. I'm a tigercat. A cat stares out of us both. Eyes carved out of stone or cells, an artist's hand, or BiologyChemistry's tools; it doesn't matter. We are both feline.

Someone's bought that statue now. It's gone, and sometimes She goes too. For a little while. And at those times, I wonder.

She may not be real, but I question then:

Why, if you look; those blank eyes watch with you, and watch over you.

Not so blank at all.

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