it comes over 
not quite like a squall line
but one of those looming
heaps of clouds
that slowly moves in
and the whole day gets dark

maybe it’s just a careless word
that hurt
or maybe it’s that inner voice
stuck in fruitless repetition
asking why or how

when those days happen
he somehow knows
he never fails to come near
he doesn’t say a word

if you speak
he listens
if you cry
he touches you gently on the cheek
he stays, steadfast, at your side
watching with caring eyes
the close warmth of him
speaking where there are no words

such deliberate compassion
spanning an abyss
between a human
and a feline
who somehow seems to know 
how to witness the hurts of life in others
and nurse them with a tenderness
sometimes forgotten by members of our own species
the deepest empathy and absence of judgment