Hijacked By A Fish

This post was originally supposed to be about the importance of a sense of purpose in one's life, but along the way it was waylaid by a punny fish.

The pain of cancer's really hard,

and time is like a tortoise,

so there's a pool in my backyard

for a senseless porpoise.

This is not what you might wish,

still less what you would ask,

but know, please, that this dotty fish

is well up for the task

of puncturing pomposity,

of soaking down the grave and grim

to banish faux-solemnity

with deluge from flapping fin

that leads into a back-flip path

which splash makes even Zealots laugh.

If you're interested in how these things get written, I came up with the first three quatrains in my head while taking care of the dogs. I figured that it would be easy to remember it, and so didn't write it down immediately.

Yeah, well...at that point I could only recall the first quatrain.

So I wrote the version shown below...and then recalled the original!

The pain of cancer's really hard,

and time is like a tortoise,

so there's a pool in my backyard

for a senseless porpoise.

He will soak the pompous

with joyful fins a-flapping,

infuriate the serious

(if they are caught napping)

with water from his blow-hole,

aimed with gleeful care

to wash the grim unsmiling soul

and let it breathe free air,

because there's not much we can do

but laugh, until this life is through.

Funny thing, though, this does kind of describe the Christian life, in which self-important solemnity is punctured (with, I think, a Holy glee) by rebirth in Christ, which restores the true and pure innocence of the soul, in which fun can take its deepest and most stable root. And the symbol early Christians used was...a fish!

Yeah, I know. A porpoise isn't a fish. Barb told me.

No accident, I think, that C. S. Lewis' autobiography is called 'Surprised By Joy'.

If you're with me so far, the Five Minute Friday prompt this week is DANGER. Oh, wow.

There's a danger upon waking,

there is danger when I sleep.

Jesus, do not be a stranger,

and please hold my soul to keep

if the ending comes in dream-time,

or it ends in sand outside;

either way I go in full prime

for the cancer just can't hide

a heart that jollies up the fear,

and guffaws at wracking pain,

letting loose of what's held dear

so that humour can remain,

and I'm gonna hit it big

in my Heaven stand-up gig.

Three minutes thirty. OK.

Music from Coldplay, with Life In Techicolour II.

Sylvia will investigate fishy happenings... after the ice cream.