Raven Song
June 9, 2000
In a secret garden, in the most
Private corner of my mind;
I am a bird, musing on the
Perch of a waxy vine.
Day by day the rain falls down,
Pelting my feathers and stinging
My face as it floats toward the ground.
And though I suffer calm disgrace,
No wind of rain will ever
Move me from my fettered place.
But if I should chose, one day,
To take a moment and seize
The day,
I will shake this heavy burden
From my tired and weary
Wings--and sing, and sing.
Having sung, and singing still,
I will look above the trees and hills
And suddenly take flight; into that
Cold, black night.
Her lips were pursed in languid question.
A stranger's sigh implied suggestion.
But would this seraph share her guarded heart?
He, too, was remarkable in part-
But not enough to last too long.
She felt the breath of Cupid on her neck,
And felt reason slipping into air.
Her naked eyes turned to him and
Trapped him in her stare.
As he was drowning in a torrid sea
Of dreams and doubt, a steady arm reached
Down below the depths to lift him out.
She wrapped him in the arms of
A love he'd never known, and a
Love she wished had never gone.
Through open eyes he realized,
"Indeed, it must be true,
This must be love I'm falling into."
Rarely in our endless search
Of common time or place,
Do we ever fall upon so bright and calm a face.
The birds of spring will
Never bring such happiness to me;
As when I'm warm within
My thoughts and thinking fond of thee.
The blinking sun above the earth
Could never be as kind; as
All the memories I hold dear
When you are brought to mind.
The ocean, with its naked
Grasp, rakes across my feet;
And takes with it, a little bit,
Of what lies underneath.
A scented shell, a seagull's
Sail, a golden painted sun; all
Evoke the times we spoke of
Days already done.
The seed ponders life
To be born of soil then die
Deep in Mother Earth's womb
Cataclysmic sound
A flash of light, then nothing
Calm before the storm
Small sweet girl, walking down the stair steps of my mind. I keep a watchful eye on her, never far behind. How enchanting she looks, her silken ringlets dancing along the lace of her collar, keeping time with her footfalls.
I know her so well, the tiny hands that fold in a lap, delicate and fair. The expectant eyes that bore into the soul...there are no secrets there. She starts down a corridor and I follow her, my steps much heavier than hers. I am walking in the shadow of my former self. I cannot go on living with this conflict, I wish one would devour the other, and end this.
As hard as I am trying, her youth transcends my wisdom. She is far ahead of me now. I can see but a flash of her dress, her ivory skin, luminous and beautiful. She stops and glances back at me, holding my gaze. I find in her the truth I mourn, and I'm amazed.
©Brandi Clark
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