Return to: Losing LoveNight Owl Flight Over You Do you think this life we own is worth saving? So much has died wrong; more times I wish I could be simple, have no other thought than for the warm scent of my next meal, or what color to smear for a painted rainbow. City days are robbed blind of color, light too bright washes over made landscapes, rendering them pale useless for dreaming. I can no longer see the tops of mountains; fog rests heavy, with something besides moist. Oceans are fast rid of salt and moving things. There are no new countries left for plunder. People wash barred windows with hate, and pile forgotten lovers in closed rooms. Every word spoken arms the next battle. Babies are born, and they never stop screaming. Nights here are without a dark enough; structures obscure, dingy light penetrates, washing stars from my remembered sky. Even the owl hesitates to call my name. I listen for his warning on wakeful nights. I have heard it means ominous things, welcomed things, in this land of noise. I could offer breath for an eternity of sleep.
Shirley Alexander © 2009
