neighbour owl

the owl , my neighbour,

calls this night,

very near,  such

beauty in the sound

of my solitude.

i know i have left

all the tears i needed

to cry,

i have no need of

sadness and despair.

i feel no wish to control

and i will take

what is given.

nothing, nobody

will dominate my spirit,

i do not need to be

free because i am.

the voice of the owl

in the forest at night

is welcome with my soul.

my friends are welcome.

i didn't leave a path

but a trace,

more for birds and frogs

to sing

than for angels to come.

there is a bird now

outside my window,

i hear clearly

how we do not sleep

this hour.

though i don't know

who i am,

i feel and see

where no eyes

can go.

why explain

that i am here

when all is present

and when i

am present in all.

my neighbour, the owl

does not question

nor discuss but

reaches me

in my bed.

i don't make love

with owls

and this is not

the time:

i am alone

i have returned

to now,

and tenderness

comes many ways,

breathing with me,

soothing the hour

of pain which 

i let go

and bringing a

scent of the sea

through the eye of a storm

which has arrived and gone

long long ago,

leaving salt, blood

and confusion

and a new green

in the fields of the day.

this is all

and all is this, 

and words divide

innocence by words