The owl
rehearses a song to life.
April 20th:
“The Owl” by Briceida Cuevas Cob
Briceida Cuevas Cob is a Mayan poet and considered to be among Mexico’s most important living poets. As with “The Cypress Broke” by Mahmoud Darwish, which I read several weeks ago, this poem presents the challenge of listening to words and concepts that were crafted in another language from my own. I’m up for the challenge. You? I especially appreciate the owl’s refusal in the final line.
Interested in owls? Check out my friend
’s notes, which have been full of tidbits lately about these nocturnal predators that sing such mournful songs in the dark. (Their Substack is full of moving poetry, too.) According to Cricket’s most recent notes, Romans believed hearing the hoot of an owl “meant imminent death,” while some Northern England folkore considered owls good luck. I where Cob’s owl fits in that dichotomy.
I love the wind chimes in the background; they add another dimension to your reading.
I love owls. They are companions along the journey. Lovely to be reminded of them today, thank you!