Thirty Thousand Feet

I drift in/out of sleep
On the ebb and flow of turbulent fronts
Bury myself in blankets
As aluminium Ravens
Vie for airspace
Over new Constantinople
And Ceylon

Ursa

I was walking through the woods, contemplating the life and death of myself, when a mournful plea began to twist among the branches, a sound unlike anything I had ever heard. A creature was nearby, slowly dying, and it was calling out to me in long, visceral tones punctuated with quiet splutters of exhaustion. I knew that I could not walk on and leave the animal to die in solitude, whatever it may be. Nothing deserves to die alone. I began to pick my way cautiously through the foliage, pacing towards the animal’s woe, wary of what I may find. I could see a large outcrop of hedge a short way ahead of me, and knew that whatever was producing the soft melody of death waited on the other side. Upon reaching it I paused, listening to the shallow breathing of the beast, not metres away, and wondered what it may be. It knew I was there. I steadied my nerves and rounded the hedge timidly, careful not to frighten the stricken creature that I found.

Button like eyes, black and serene, burrowed deep into mine as I witnessed, for the first and only time, a female grizzly bear cub. She continued to stare at me, absorbing my every move as I carefully advanced towards her, so weak that her head could barely be lifted from the ground. I could see no physical cause of her predicament, no blood or damage to indicate an injury, but it was clear that this creature was dying. The scent of death rose languidly from her aguish frame and came to rest in the back of my throat, a dull yet permeating fragrance, the memory of which is imprinted firmly on my mind.

I crouched down not a metre away, our eyes still locked, and she showed no fear at my presence. I edged ever closer, on my knees now, and felt the beating of my heart swell in my throat as I reached out a tentative hand to rest on her back. Her fur was thin and dirty, fallen out in places and the skin beneath was fragile and cold. I could feel the movement of her ribcage as she breathed, and felt the rattle of her lungs in my fingertips.

I sat down by her side, my hand still on her back as she calmly inspected me, feebly sniffing the edge of my jacket, pawing at my shoe. Even this close I could see no evidence of harm, the reason for her abandonment and now inescapable death beyond me. This is the way of nature, I thought, perhaps her only sin was to be weak. Or perhaps she was just unwanted, as so many of us often are.

I gently stroked her tiny frame for the next hour, her head resting on my knee as her breathing gradually diminished, and I could feel her heart slow down. She would occasionally open her eyes at the sound of a nearby bird or mouse, ever alert to her surroundings, look up at me with the acceptance of fate etched into her face and again rest her head on my lap.  She did not whimper, she did not cry, not once I was there.

She died as the shadows reached their shortest, the sunlight falling vertically through the canopy. My hand came to rest just below her shoulders as I felt a long final breath leave her body, all of her muscles relaxing in unison as she slipped peacefully into the void. I remained there for a short while, motionless and pensive, minutely stroking the back of her neck. I did not cry, I wasn’t sad for her, but I felt something change in me, something that I cannot explain. The world was a different place, and I a different person within it. This death had shown me a beautiful way to die.

I picked her up and held her in my hands, carrying her like water, as though I was afraid that her meek frame would slip through the cracks in my palm, and placed her at the base of the hedge. I caressed her head before standing up, looked down at her body, now an empty husk of blood and bone inhabiting the same solitude in which I found her, and I walked away.