by Timir Banerjee
I am Moses
They say I am gallant and magnificent
It sounds pompous and conceited
But that I am not.
I am large in size but I can move fast
I can run half a mile at twenty miles an hour without a stop
I drool a bit while I pant
But in matter of moments, I cool down, fast.
I am a Great Pyrenees with white fluffy hair
I was rescued from Eastern Kentucky where I was stuck in a miserable affair
A side of a hog, every so often was thrown at us
As we lived with our siblings in a muddy campus.
Now at meal time the farmer sits and prays with me
He on a chair with head down and I on my behind sitting and slobbering.
He says gratitude is everything.
I know of Argos of Odysseus
I want to be loyal and famous
I want to be like him in fact.
The farmer says that to be famous you have to be with a famous dude
Or you have to do a heroic act
And someone has to recognize that
Or print it somewhere for others to know
So I don’t have to promote myself or crow about my perceived prowess
The farmer says that he has to be a Lincoln for me to be as famous as Fido
And he wasn’t as famous as the Kentucky born hero
But I should be grateful that my life had changed since I came to Xanadu.
I have at times been playful and goofed on the job
Now and then I sit and scratch my ears
While watching the sheep and donkeys in pasture
I am incharge of chickens and ducks too
How can I be famous if I can’t fight off foxes or a bear or two
The farmer says doing your job well
No matter how menial
Makes me famous within.
The joy is in self satisfaction of a job well done
And that by itself is supposed to be the most pleasant feeling to the one.
I don’t like to play go fetch
I would rather chase a kite
Or scare the hawks that fly
I can kill a coyote
And carry it to show the farmer
So that he can award me an Atta Boy.
I bark at the balloons that make noises
So they go higher up as they fly over our farm
I think they put more gas to make bigger flames being scared of me
Then I run over to the farmer
For him to acknowledge my achievements.
I am satisfied with a dog biscuit
That he often has in his pocket.
I have at times chased the pigs
I have sat and watched the peacocks play
I have sat with my large head between my front legs
And bowed to the big bucks
As they graze.
The wild turkeys and their babies walk by me
I sometimes wonder if I am the best I could be?
The farmer says I don’t have to be Charlton Heston or have to have a staff in my hands in front of the parting of the Red Sea
I can still be Moses that Ramses loved, child of Jochebed and be happy, just being me!