By Liz Mathews
Editor's Note: This is a piece created by a Fort Lyon resident in one of our creative writing classes led by writer-in-residence Kathy Conde last fall.
From a slow heartbeat in the bed
To a drumroll
To the approval of the spirit
And the grey owl of the night
I have moved to the window
Through it, and to the branch
That called me scratching at the glass
It is a black cat kind of dark
And while my eyes adjust to the dreamtime
To the space-time between masses
My ears hear a howling wind
Like the wild ocean in a seashell
I watch myself asleep in bed
And feel no thread between us two
The Owl comes to lift me down
His wings are mine till I can fly
“We’re due to meet the Moon tonight
She’s fierce and bold and smells our lies
She’ll want to know your truths and fears.”
With blackhole eyes he beckoned me
In this spell I shed my gown
And accompanied ran to the berm
Where no greater sky was ever seen
And no fuller moon, blood red and blue
Grey Owl of the night and I
Stood small and made our voices loud
With all the freezing air could hold
Our vibrations cut the clouds apart
“Grandmother Moon!” we banshee called
“We’ve come to offer up our souls!
Our knowingness is that we know less.
Our great fear- that we’ll never live again.”
It seemed at once the stars rotated
The Moon’s bright face shone stark and white
A booming laughter rolled through the air
It took all our strength to not be felled
“Oh sweet Owl, and dear sweet girl!
Were we supposed to meet tonight?
I’ve been laughing at such cosmic jokes
As the one about Taurus and…” she stopped.
“In any case, dear mortal souls,
I’ve heard your truth and heard your fears.
It is indeed a frightening thing to be alive
And not know past death.”
“A more frightening thing - I would imagine
Would be to think you know for sure.
So do not fear, and do not know, and
Laugh always about your knowing less.”
With that she turned the sky around
Grey Owl and I flew quietly back
“I thought our interview was today,” said Owl
And we both laughed myself awake.
