The Owl Awaits

By Annie Firth

The wet road in moonlight

reflects the sea,

beckons me on.

My mind meanders, but follows.

The story runs both backwards and forwards,

in black and white.

I do not pause.

No cats eyes for guidance.

An owl travels with me,

Lends me its eyes so I can see.

Clasping the swollen jar to my belly,

I walk as a pregnant lady would.

Slowly.

Carefully.

There.

I kneel and half bury the jar in the sand.

I take off the memories.

The locket, last, is interred in the jar.

I wade into the moon.

Dive under the waves,

emerge bleary eyed and gasping

Then crest the tops,

Laughing.

Floating.

Moonbathing.

Ears underwater,

I listen to the ocean's heartbeat.

I forgive the past for its transgressions.

I swim into now.

The sea gifted an iridescent shell,

soaked in the moon's wisdom.

I add it to the jar.