Katherine Roth

Two Buckets

There is suffering. I watch my dog decline. Her twitches, her struggle to raise her body, her distant gaze. Is it my responsibility to free her from this body?
 
Buddha says, “There is a way out of suffering. Release your attachments.”
 
We walk at night, no leash between us. Is she suffering as she walks the path, sniffs the cedar? Am I suffering as I watch her sniff the cedar? Moon at the zenith, is half a moon of light tonight. 

Is it more here or more its shadowed self?
 
When I was eight, my father gave me a wooden shelf and when he returned from traveling he gifted me a delicate carving of a woman. A tiny pole poised across her shoulder held a bucket on each end. Perfectly balanced. I placed her on that shelf. 
 
I called the vet and made our appointment, then canceled an hour later. I made another and cancelled. Another. I made the date and met her at the door. Is her dying more courageous than her living? Will the ease of her dying balance the silence in the room? 

Buddha says we suffer  when our desire to hold onto life’s pleasure encounters the fleeting nature of this life.

I still walk. I walk—
carrying both our buckets 
full of fleeting light

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About the Author

Katherine Roth lives and works as a collaborating physician in Traverse City, Michigan. Her poetry has been published in Wild Root Journal, Walloon Writers Review, Open Palm Print and the Peninsula Poets. She is the co-author of the memoir The Good Fight: A Story of Love, Cancer and Triumph. Her poetry collection is entitled Unforgotten.

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