this poem was inspired by Shadow's post Possession
I happen to like crows and I also happen to like reading up on mythology, cultural, and religious histories. For those who don't know, a crow in some Native American cultures is considered a blessing or good omen, not a bad one as is thought by so many.
A Crow Calls
Shivering and hazy thoughts
that encompass the world of
dreams broken and lives pushed
to the edge of sanity's line.
A crow calls and beckons thee,
telling you to remember
the sweetness of bitter memories,
of goals worth pursuing that took flight,
when you stopped in fear of the thunder
that rolled in your heart and the lightning
that beat through your veins.
The crow calls once again,
bleeding its voice through the haze,
seeping down in your soul,
to lift you up and remember what it was,
you came to do.
Uncomprehending, shaking in pain,
the fog barely lifts enough for understanding
in the nakedness of your soul stripped bare
from a trust you had given
in a way you didn't know you could do.
And when at last you begin to hear
A crow calls
to give way to one solitary feathered wing
lifting up your chin to say,
"Love. Love is all you have to do."