Baby Kitten

(We named her Bodhi. She is a little Buddha speaking no evil, seeing no evil and hearing no evil.)

Baby Kitty,
Born into this here harsh world. Like we all are. On Cold tile enclosed by bright white walls.
Momma left you on the steps.
Welcome to the world.
Abandoned.
I feel you today.
I was in a warm womb this morning.
Then I got ripped out, and abandoned in the freezing, rainy real world alone, blind.
Umbilical cord hanging out of your belly button still connected on one end, but severed on the other.
The attachment is still there, physically laid out on the floor for everyone to see, shriveling. Vulnerable.
All the wanting in the world cannot reconnect this wounded appendage.
The same woman found us both today crying on the white tile floor all messy and snotty and wet from crying about how our attachments were laid out before us and the other beings of our umbilical cords, our sustenance, had gnawed off their attachment to us. She scooped us both up into her arms as a surrogate mother.
Maybe love should not be a physical attachment to the body.
Maybe love ultimately has to be something deeper.
If a mother can leave her kit maybe there is no unconditional love.
Maybe there is only conditional love.
Or maybe if it hurts too much to love another that we gnaw off the painful part and leave love behind.