I Hear the Owl Call My Name

It’s the darkest of dark nights
and there is no moon,
just me and the sleepless forest,
knowing midnight will strike soon.

The branches grab as I step
and smell my fear as they watch me fall,
but my hands, my knees bare on,
and so on and on and on I crawl.

Broken, shredded and relentless,
the splinters crack my fragile skin,
but on and on and on I crawl,
knowing I must pay this greatest sin.

You were always the wiser,
eyes able to pierce through darkness
and you watch me now from your perch,
at my tangle, my stress, my mess.

I hear the branches break and crack
under the weight of my tangled heart,
but I stop my crawl when I hear
the owl sing it’s sleepless art.

My naked eyes see nothing but blackness,
yet my mind sees its great gray winter coat
and those blue eyes; piercing, piercing, piercing,
like a thousand words my sadness wrote.

And on and on and on I crawl,
but now I’m not so afraid
I hear the owl call my name
and all the darkness seems to fade.


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