October 2002  

Her Pain   © by   Philip Krummrich
 

The great gray owl is very like her pain,
among the needling hemlocks of the night,
ghost in the spruces, silent in its flight,
undampened by its passage through the rain.
Its rattling and infrequent cries recede
unrecognized: the few who chance to hear
hear only garbled noises, have no ear
to single out that call among the screed.
The owl seeks covert in the glare of day,
emerges furtively, and moves unseen
among thick spruces, through the shrouded air—
and then it freezes, fears to fly or stay,
swivels to keep me focused in its keen
wide eyes, those eyes that cannot turn, but stare.

Previously published in the North Carolina Poetry Society's
Award-Winning Poems 2002. Used with the poet's permission.
NOTICE: The poem on this page is copyright © by the poet.