Flight by Judy K Mosher
(An Ekphrastic Conversation with The Waiting Room, acrylic on canvas,
by Jeanne Chastain, on display at Santa Fe Community College)
Soft leafy backdrop, with pebbly base in triptych.
Greek columns of darkness, open as the
night sky turns to day.
I am dreamy, see the surreal
fly blind as my security blanket
blows in the wind.
Majestic barn owl clutches prey
field mouse dangles from talons in
a backdrop unfamiliar.
My familiar backdrop —
not always welcome or wanted —
lifts like an anchor from deep sand.
The darker the sky, the more
luminous, numerous the stars until
dark makes light.
Where is light in my darkness?
My feet wobble without reference points
like a sea turtle beached in Belize.
Barn owl, carrier of messages, sustenance,
what tale do you have from mystery
from deep space beyond human ego?
Even glimmering oyster shell walls
crack under weight of
holding pretty pillars.
At once, this space of surreal openness
a barren room, and
one pregnant with possibility.
My rooms close, I cannot breathe.
When Mother dies, will I be mouse or owl?
Who will collapse into dark-sky made light?
