2016 05 12
At the hooting of the owl in the tree
on the river shore in the misty glade
I remember sparkle in her blue eyes
when we kissed at the beginning of time.
How sweet and innocent, with naive play,
she always smiled and sang a cheerful tune,
no matter how much horror and grim death
we endured in our village by the lake.
Though our fathers died in soul-slashing war,
our brothers were enslaved to work in mines,
and our mothers died sweating in workshops,
she sang joyous tunes by the waterfall.
We held hands and skipped when the sun rose gold,
and chased each other among apple trees,
and my heart swelled with joy to see her hair
shimmering gold as sunlight in river breeze.
And then I heard the hooting of the owl
when she reached her hand in the narrow cave
to retrieve a jewel she saw shining bright,
but snatched her hand away with startled gasp.
She smiled at me with blazing beams of light
and all the sky became her shining eyes
when girl I loved collapsed into my arms
and trembled at the poison in her blood.
I saw the snake that bit her slip away
then clutched her in my arms with anguished cry
and though she smiled with love for everything
I saw the spirit fade from her blue eyes.
Though she was innocent with selfless love
and sang with cheer regardless of cruel death,
the serpent of joy bit her loving heart
so I weep at the hooting of the owl.