Prosetry : Old Owl by jusylee72
Artwork by dodgement at FanArtReview.com |
No one knows when I was created This wide eyed wonder of the world But many say it was the first time A man asked why Why do we exist? Who made us? Why do we suffer? Who we are? I sit on a tree branch and listen to the elders of the tribe speak One Indian likes to tell the tale Over and over to his grand children They listen by the fire as he weaves the tale of Old Owl The bird who is silent during the day The bird who questions everything at night The bird who is both intelligent and evil I am a quick warrior Few are faster than me when I seek my nourishment Few were given the gift of sight in the dark I can fly over fields in the dead of night And still see the smallest rodent Believing he is safe and happy But I have to eat So I swoop and extend my claws And at that moment I have no fear Or regret I have to be both beautiful and powerful I have to protect and feed my young The story goes that I was once only a small bird Who no other birds feared And my children starved in the forest And my nest was not warm But the wind of the gods saw my wisdom And changed me They gave me huge eyes that could see in the darkness They gave me claws to pick up my prey They gave me the strength of ten birds To carry it away I killed mercifully And swiftly I thanked the earth and the gods for feeding me and my children The Indian told them of my voice How I would say “Who” And question the night And all the older Indians Both loved and feared me I was an omen of death I was given one sadness If I was to gain my powers I was no longer allowed to see the sun My eyes so sensitive at night Would be blinded by the day I had to give up the flowers that bloom in sunshine I couldn’t view the colors of the earth The sparkles on the lake when the sun dances The dark holds no colors The Indian said, “All wise men have to accept what they are given.” Modern men don’t venture outside They tuck themselves in their dwellings They listen to false day on their picture machines But if they were to walk in the wilderness On a full moon night They would hear me calling asking who they are.
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