Feast of the Owl (Sunday Whirl 563)


In the hollow of the old muscular

Tree (an inverted V-shaped crack)

Lay the Feast of the Owl, arranged

According to sacred pagan ritual

The elders say there’s power in

Ritual, that it ‘holds the spirits

(Which makes me wonder what

Happens if the spirits aren’t “held”…

Do they run off, go wild—do

They eat children my age?)

I was raised to keep silent

No questions…

I feel a heavy ache, looking in

That hollow, like the whole world’s

About to turn sideways on us…

My grandma comes up behind

Me, holding a lit candle… I take it

She removes her apron, covers me

With it like a blanket or cape

“You’re takin’ a chill, honey,” she says

“Don’t be scared—shall I sing you a song?

How ’bout ‘Amazing Grace’, you know

That one real well…”  I nod.

©Leyde Ryan, 2022 ~ All rights reserved.

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