Snowy owl will be your disguise
when you escape this cage.
You will be grateful you were once alive
though many died and you grew solitary.
A torn black band tied to your wing
kept you from flight. But now,
it’s time to leave your perch.
You’ll marry the wind.
Nourish red Echinacea,
brighten orange and yellow Rudbekia
leaning into the sun’s nourishment.
Your loam will feed Montauk Daisies,
pale blue-grey in afternoon shadows’ summer light.
The air will flood the fields with memories
of your prostrations before your garden Buddha
while strangers steward this house,
the tides, the bay.
In spring, you’ll be the invisible moment
buds burst to flower.
You will know what lurks beyond the door
that opens when we vanish.
As hell on earth rages merciless,
you will wish you could return,
teach humans you have seen
they are the makers
of their own torment. You’ll wish
you could show them how
to lift the fog that obviates compassion
in the bit of time they have.
Rosalind Brenner is a poet and visual artist living in East Hampton, NY. Her poetry has appeared in numerous literary journals and in the chapbooks, Omega’s Garden and All That’s Left. Her paintings are shown in New York and Chicago. You can find out more about Rosalind at rosalindbrenner.com