A light so honest it needs no mirror
no refraction
clunking arbitrarily against time.
She contemplates its worth
stretching a glimmer of black, Labradorite feathers over
a jewelled hoard of her contempt.
Raven stands on the dark side of the moon.
Honoured in the land of gardens and waves
curiously, she plucked humans out of clamshells
placed stars in the night
tricked Coyote and emboldened,
became a battle cry. Raefan fluttered forecast
assigned to Odin’s war – Huginn and Muninn be damned
enslaved to murdered souls. An emblem,
Raven flutters her wings as she cackles harmonious irony.
Did God not command her to feed the prophet?
Raven stands on the dark side of the moon
leaning on a fencepost, coveting a pasture clear.
Forever described, inscribed into legend,
regardless of fear.
As witness she ponders a silence unspoken
as the shepherd tends an unmarked grave.
Gently he places down a satchel of sorts, and
looks up to smile kindly at Raven’s still pose.
Bran, you have served humanity well – both in your good
and evil ways. Regardless of roots every creature deserves
to be set free of the stories designed from nativity.
Humbly,
the shepherd bowed into the darkness of eternity.
Raven peered warily into daylight.
With a caw, and scamper, she clawed over the fence afraid
brilliance would dull her luminous feathers.
Raven stretched out her wings and soared
over the grave, stealing
a diamond from the shepherd’s bag.
A gift of honest light, kindly stolen
into honest night.
Rachel Marie, copyright 2020.
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