Oulll Uo uo Uo Uuoolll the Owl sings
The Owl
Who can see through the night.
Who could travel in pitch black with its nocturnal lens flare.
Who spoke with the stars under the piercing light of a full moon
Guiding the spirits’ search in their return to the sugar fields.
Hunting in the evening with ancestral fire that traverses the land
    until dawn.
Abuela/grandmother, is it true that when the owl is singing we
    just hear the voice of a loved one long departed?
Oulll Uo uo Uo Uuoolll the Owl sings
Hum!!! I can see now.
A mysterious bird of evening, keeping vigil in the Ceiba tree and
    the ruins of the old plantation. The owl drawing silhouettes
    of the movement of things that only could enter those silent
    eyes.
She was in the bedroom window, 2 perfect black moons.
Mother is it possible that the sorrow tune of the owl song is just a
    prayer for the souls in transition? Or it is just a hymn to
    alleviate the pain?
Oulll Uo uo Uo Uuoolll, Oulll Uo uo Uo Uuoolll, the Owl sings.
Hum!
I can see clear now. She who has eyes in her back.
A young girl is sleeping in La Vega, a mosquito net covering her
    fears and exhilaration. She could see through the dark …
    the image of a woman owl. La Lechuza.
She has eyes like black holes, witnesses of the solid darkness of
    the universe, the sugar prairies and the irrevocable blue of
    the open sea.
Could she glance the vessels, from such distance? The towers,
    the riots, is she noticing the bodies tracing lines in the
    fields.
The despair.
Could she see the hands trying to grasp water? Tall grass leaves
    like ocean waves.
She is witness of the negotiations at place when men, women,
    children go to bed, standing like columns, not knowing?
Will be there a place to rest, to fall? + + + Ruins + Drones are
    invading her night +
There is no site to go + Ruins + There is not + + +
What is home?
She is listening again to the ancient owl song.
Oulll Uo uo Uo Uuoolll, Oulll Uo uo Uo Uuoolll
Could s/he/i see, hear clear now, tomorrow … Sighting through
     dark Hum.

—María Magdalena Campos-Pons