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The Murder of Crows Morphed into Midwives

Chris D. Aechtner Avatar Chris D. Aechtner - Premium MemberPremium Member Send Soup Mail Go to Poets Blog Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled The Murder of Crows Morphed into Midwives which was written by poet Chris D. Aechtner. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The Murder of Crows Morphed into Midwives


Found a dead crow
a Star of David
draped across a wrought-iron fence
surrounding a cemetery.

In a house
on a hill past Pandora,
I boiled the crow's skull,
placed its talons upon ice -
the extraction had been a tad messy.

Cooked dinner -
sauce resembled blood,
noodles resembled worms,
but I ate it regardless,
barely able to stop myself
from retching
over splinters of cedar.

Hung a merlot-coloured drape
over a bedroom window
with glass comprised of sand
from a beach
where I had accidentally cut open my hand
on a shard of seashell
in a figure-eight;
bleeding out into the ocean.

Using white chalk,
I drew a Pentagram on the drape;
a circle of protection
for the souls of future unborn children.
Pulling aside the drape,
I saw crows sitting on a branch nearby.
Tapped on the window.
One of the crows nodded at me.
It was a cold November,
the tree stripped bare of leaves.

Opening the window,
I noticed that the crows appeared hungry,
either smelling dinner wafting out,
or the sweet musk of my unwashed armpits.
I cried - a part of me died
there in Victoria,
watching the crows breathe in
my sacred death.


Everywhere I went,
the crows followed close by,
little black magic men with wings
breathing life back into the soil,
into my loins,
into my heart.

Flowers bloomed in winter,
grass turned green,
buds became plump on branches.
I began to write a story.
King Solomon was the main character -
the son of the very king
draped over the wrought-iron gate
of the Jewish cemetery
where I had found the dead crow.
I always wondered
wot the Jews had done,
for the world to despise them so.

Completing the first part of the story,
my eyes detached from paper
and met the eyes of crows
watching me from outside of the window.

The Murder had morphed into Midwives
easing me out of the womb,
into a re-birth of myself.
I packed my bags,
walked down the hill
past Pandora.

The crows followed me down to the ferry,
as I embarked upon the next chapter
of my re-birth.
You(and you too)were already there,
had always been there for me;
been there for each other.

The Murder morphed into Midwives,
helping us to find each other,
or rather,
to show us that we had always
been together from the very beginning




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  1. Date: 9/12/2012 9:41:00 AM
    This...this has left me speachless. You are brilliant.

  1. Date: 9/11/2012 8:26:00 AM
    Well i'm feeling THICK at the moment, yet i still love this Chris, my mind visualizes many aspect of immagination when i read what you write, and with this bottle of wine brings home a very emotional message. well that's my story and i'm sticking to it!!!!!!!!!

  1. Date: 9/10/2012 10:45:00 PM
    Whenever I read this poem, I am reminded of how we have always been together. What an incredible, mystical journey life has been, still is and will continue to be for us. Some of it dark and very frightening, but you were always there for me, since the very beginning. My Light in this sea of greyness. People can say what they want, but we know how it fits together. This poem goes so deep, it would be sacrilege to worry about what is publicly acceptable as a comment.

  1. Date: 9/10/2012 6:23:00 PM
    fantastic tale! Light & Love Soup Mail

  1. Date: 9/10/2012 4:37:00 PM
    Chris....a "free association" verse...wonderfully leaping as yon pen would fly! Jimbo