Get Your Premium Membership

Still Night Lodge

Still night broken by call of soul owl watching over the lodge of my father's brother. The next world awaits my uncle. His walking clothes prepared. His feather oiled to a brave sheen. Knife freshly sharpened in beaded sheath. He calls to owl. I'm ready. The women begin the journey chant. My father dances with joy tears. 3/30/14

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.