At night, the owl glides quietly past my Mamaw Lilly’s window.
i vow to put a curse on one wing.
Some how, my chant i begin to sing.
All the clocks stop their tick tick ticking.
Sick with dread i know my mamaw is dead.
The next month as i stand barefoot in her fresh dirt,
my heart is hurt,
my charm, it did not work.
The crows are in the graveyard, cawing a warning sound.
i call out they can’t keep me away.
i can’t be afraid.
i must be brave.
i will listen and learn from them.
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