I Am the Owl by Nevaeh Felix

Poetry Club sponsored by Mr. Francis

Hang on for a minute...we're trying to find some more stories you might like.


Email This Story






I am the owl.

 

I take in the night, the moon calls to me.

My glass, amber eyes glimmering in the moonlight.

 

The stars are silver, each telling stories.

 

The wind blown grass talks to me.

But the rustles are lies, ones I’ve told myself over and over again.

The pitiful gut feeling of just wanting to restart your life over again and redo your mistakes.

 

Water lilies reassure me I’m okay.

The world built up from it’s mistakes, it learned from them and grew from them.

 

The brisk air blowing at me, almost as if it’s stripping off my feathers one by one.

My feathers provide me with the one thing that truly makes me happy, freedom.

At dawn, I’m restricted and put into sleeping mode, but at night, I’m released to be whoever and whatever I want to be, I go as I please.

 

I can have so many thoughts at a time, all filling my head until it eventually overflows and I can’t take it anymore.

I try and talk, but my beak says otherwise. I want to say help me, but my beak say hoot. I want to say I’m not okay, I’m not fine, but my beak says hoot. I need to say that I’m drowning in my own thoughts, not being able to tell what’s real or not, but my beak simply replies with a hoot.

 

The water below me glistens, as the sun arises from its slumber.

The sun is like my prison, trapping me into slumber until it sets, awaiting our next visit. I obey, as I’m a nocturnal..

I anticipate to talk with you again dear friend,

For I am the owl.

Silent, and unnoticed by will.

Print Friendly, PDF & Email