Watchers of the Dark, Gods of the Dead
“I rejoice that there are owls. Let them do the idiotic and maniacal hooting for men. It is a sound admirably suited to swamps and twilight woods which no day illustrates, suggesting a vast and underdeveloped nature which men have not recognized. They represent the stark twilight and unsatisfied thoughts which all [men] have.” Henry David Thoreau, 1854 Walden.
Intro: Ko’ko,
Watchers of the Dark, Gods of the Dead
The owl’s scream at night howling into the darkness…
Dry bones as old as 60 million years testify their unchanging existence. Life’s food chain, a hierarchy, predator of night, seeker of darkness, the secret one that dwells, the owl who lifts the soul to heaven or submerges it to hell.
Associate the owl, this owl, a dead Owl, with the unknown held in one hand and to be buried soon in shallow frozen soil. What’s been said in the past, these ancient myths, when a person dies, it is the owl, this owl, who will carry our soul over the bridge leading to an after life. But, when the owl dies who is there to lead it to the other side?
Folklore speaks of the ancient face of death seen only at night howling and whistling from trees. Glaring eyes fixated on a human face stare into oblivion. From a beak like a hungry hawk, a tongue licks the taste of its own blood stained pink and opens beneath a conspicuous design of ornate feathers decorating around each eye. No sound emits though it screams as loud as it can. The owl does not fear this death because it knows another will be a new messenger once it is free.
Claws penetrate flesh of prey. Needles injecting a voodoo doll, victims are swallowed whole and regurgitated in indigestible parts. The diet of the predator has no reasoning. They eat because they are.
Let us speak of the superstition of evils prevalent amongst men and the horrific wickedness that lingers on the tongues and thoughts of children. Vicious Birds that eat their own mothers and suck the blood of slumbering infants as they sleep at night, all these things and more that lurk out of human sight. The screech of an owl heeds only punishment and needs awaiting death, the next pray. It is a fact most people die during the night and because of this, the owl is their messenger.
The Powers of evil and destruction have always existed and will forever exist on and on as time continues to contain the human soul. Desolation and new reincarnation, Yama, God of Death will send his emissaries to collect, and they will be hostile. Their nature is to molest wherever they find you. The only hope is to lose your name and fear the calling of this death. Run when you hear the scream of the Owl at night. Flee as you have never fled before from the calling. Its very howl may be wanting of your soul.
Dusk and dawn, a time of power. May they awaken you from trembling dreams, lingering messages and drifting remnants from the other world. Return safe to warm beds where the Zuni Mother has placed the owl’s feather. May it help you sleep safe at night, and pray…
Old woman who screeches,
Coileach-oidhche,
Wise seer of darkness.
Guide our souls through the underworld
Oh swift and quiet hunter.
Unmask those who deceive.
Praise you oh silent observer.
(intro to the story ‘City of Gold’)
