Do we only find
what we’re looking for?
Of late, all I seem to find
is that you are not quite here.
The other night the owl
went unseen until the dog
rushed up to it and then,
wings beating magnificently,
flew to the nearest branch
to peer down at us, woman and dog.
What reason did the owl have
to be there at the edge
of the park, wings silver and wide
in the darkness?
You see, my father handed me
The Blue and Brown Books
one Christmas that was like this.
He never told me three
of Wittgenstein’s
brothers committed suicide.
He never told me anything
about families or patterns of inheritance.
Never said a word about the distrust
of life that violence breeds,
never said there might be owls
in the darkness or that
you are only as alone as you think
you are.
Author: Kasey Johnson
Email: [email protected]
Author Bio: Kasey Elizabeth Johnson is a third-year medical student. She is interested in the intersection of race, class, gender, mental health, and addiction in literature and in healthcare education and practice. Her writing has been published in Bodega Magazine, Bone Bouquet, Corium Magazine, Paper Nautilus, Prick of the Spindle, Saranac Review, among others. She holds an MA from the University of New Mexico and a BA from Reed College.
