“the owls are not what they seem: a list of possibility”
- there could be time still, time enough for days on a sectional couch, reading, close, time enough for what matters.
- the answer to the question you’ve been afraid to ask, could be yes.
- the water could root you, and the ground could carry you to the other side.
- love could not hurt, and walk with you into an unknown future, gentle and rich.
- it could turn out that nothing is wasted.
- what you seek, could be seeking you.
- you could choose only that which is effortless and meaningful.
- you could leave the garden. you could name your own animals. you could sit there in the matchbox bar, late at night with smudged eye makeup as the cold starts to come in, and know your answer in that moment as true. when did it happen? she asked. how did you know, that your life belonged to you now? and i didn’t realize the answer until it came spilling out of my mouth. when nothing, not a single thing, was forbidden.
then i could take full responsibility. then i could truly choose. then i could love free.
- catwoman could come and save your life. and after that, you’d forever live knowing her as present in you. so one days years later, you’d ask her, to stay alive in the wild and leave you alone, and trust she’d return the second she heard you screaming in the night.
- the writing on the wall could spell out your dirt roads of satisfaction and bodied epiphanies.
- it could happen. you know this, right? you could lay down your swords and kiss your scars and make alters of you wrecked and insistent fate line, make a bed of rosewater and skin, make a home of hard laughter and second acts and your belief undoing your disbelief.