The Owl, Death of my Past
2000-06
Oil on Linen
24 x 30 inches


I had a dream the year before we met.
It, You
changed me completely.

I saw a funeral from my bedroom window.
Watching, astonished, a line up of a dead baby,
two people who appeared to be old European caregivers, a black cat
standing on it's feet playing with a yellow butterfly in it's hands
and beside, a baby owl.
The ceremony was for a young girl who died,
but it changed to an older girl.
They honored her many accolades.
Behind this row of magicians, there were many people who came to attend.

My Mother tried to distract me but I asked her to be quiet.
I wanted to See.

The very next day, a black cat walked in the place of this funeral
and I ran my fingers through his hair.

In the coming month, beside the bedroom window, an owl came to visit.
You and I were about to meet.

After our marriage, your Mother entered my studio and said
in this picture I had painted she and her husband.

On the day I awaited our daughter's birth,
a baby owl visited from light to dark beside my studio.
I then knew who she was.

I thought this painting was a start to something,
I called it "Owl, Death of my Past."
Fearing the meaning of this dream, I left it unfinished.

Your time approached,
the departure of the Black Cat,
the one who Played with Butterflies.

Looking out Our bedroom window,
my past Died the day you did.

Leaving all past dust in Ashes.
Only now to understand, only now.