by Mary K O'Melveny
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| Flaco, the Eurasian eagle-owl whose escape from the Central Park Zoo and subsequent life on the loose in Manhattan captured the public’s attention, died Friday night after apparently striking a building on the Upper West Side, officials said. —The New York Times, February 23, 2024 |
At some point we all wanted to be Flaco.
To rise above our circumstances,
escape our confined lives,
take flight in open spaces
once known as dreams.
To perch high enough that our
imaginations cannot be captured.
To gain perspective on those details
of our former lives closer to ground
that went missing each day.
At treetop height, our diary of daily
exploits expands like open secrets,
while our fears are as useless as yesterday’s news.
Watch us in awe as shadows of our wings
recede into the far distance.
Up here, we listen to wind symphonies,
sway to syncopated beats of rain drops
on balcony ledges, fire escapes, water towers.
We watch sunsets morph from marigold to auburn to mauve
Aloft, we leap, linger like Nijinsky.
Some said survival was sketchy.
Wild creatures face too many obstacles –
best to keep them caged for longer life.
But they forgot about the thrill of open skies.
How memories expand when airborne.
Mary K O'Melveny is a recently retired labor rights attorney who lives in Washington DC and Woodstock NY. Her work has appeared in various print and on-line journals. Her poetry collections include Dispatches From the Memory Care Museum (Kelsay Books) and Merging Star Hypotheses (Finishing Line Press).
