Owl
Pam Bernard
| poetry
The ear is the last face. —Emily Dickinson
Now the owl comes
to my sleep, unbidden.
I take its call, sculpted
and clear, in to the immensity
inside me, let it pass
through, a journey
not governed by wisdom.
The owl is hungry
and will not stay long.
It means only to be owl,
not gift or omen.
It will not fall silent
when I die, nor will I
grieve in its absence.
But how perfect now
the increase.
Pam Bernard received her MFA from the Graduate Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College, and BA from Harvard University. Her awards include a NEA Fellowship in Poetry and two Mass Cultural Council Fellowships. She has published three full-length collections, and most recently a verse novel entitled Esther (CavanKerry Press).