I looked out my second story window to see where the cries came from,
And up in a tree as high as my window,
Sat a little kitten.
It looked down and cried and cried--
Too frightened to move.
"The mother of this kitten was dead--
Hit by a car just two weeks earlier,
And although the kitten was big enough,
I felt bad as I heard its plaintive cries.
Two other mother cats heard the cries also,
And one by one they climbed the tree
To touch the kitten with their noses
And comfort her.
She was too big now for them to carry.
"I was touched by the mother cats.
Both of them had other kittens to care for.
Surely they were too busy
To go through the effort of climbing this tree
And comforting a non-relative.
I did not know that animal instincts
Allowed them to go beyond their physical ties
To reach out to a fellow in their species
When no natural bond had been made. . .
“In stark contradiction to my lifelong belief that I was unlovable, I was being loved by mere neighbors in such a self-sacrificing, unconditional way that it was impossible to deny. I was truly in the beginning stages of a transformation, but I was still in such pain that I failed to recognize the progress.
“Would the balances ever level out? Would the weight of love in my life ever be enough to compensate for the pain and sorrow of years of torture, violence and sexual violation?” (My Tears Fall Inside, pages 133-134)