Art: Mark Collins
Look around and see how this world
is created. How a protective mother owl
chose the acacia branches lined with thorns,
long and intentful, they easily knowing
their singular purpose, impressive when
there’s so much human longing for the same,
and the owlets perched there, not
understanding that they are part metaphor.
"Hooo hoo hooo!”
She could have chosen, let’s say, something
tall and in flower with lovely petals, soft delicate
petals of a particular lovely color, and there might
have been nectar pooled, readied for gravity’s
lapping tongue. That would have gotten me
talking about the spoiled gods of old, but it’s not
necessary, not in this place.
If you want to take something from this world,
the situation can get quite thorny and, sometimes,
it really should, but if you want something precious
to belong, to remain as it is, pray for thorns, invoke
thorns, call them your allies. I find this interesting.
Perspective has so many angles. Look at them there!
How they wish they could venture forth
into the wild, unknown yonder. They’re scowling,
seemingly a bit grumpy, because they can’t.
They could, I suppose,
but this world was created with thorns.
© 2018/Jamie K. Reaser
Book collaboration in progress with artist Mark Collins
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