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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required In a neighbourhood that never learned my name I sat down on a crooked bench beside the bike path A crow in the branches called out wrong metallic like grief run through a broken radio I rose and walked toward it It didn’t fly It only stared and in its eyes I saw the world unraveling The dying planet the war child’s cry the sickness the hunger the heartbreak the neglect It leaned forward gifting me its terrible knowing I am feathered form of fury truth carried on a single beating wing I rise above the noise above the distortion above the lies I am the shadow’s witness fluttering at the edge of your sight guarding the threshold between what is fair and what is due The crow stepped down from the branch and the world bent around it Human body crow’s head one black wing rising from its left side like a half forgotten creation myth Sometimes a man sometimes a woman shifting like smoke but always the eye that sees everything It stood before me trickster creator witness and said in a metallic broken voice I am the guide I am the seeing Walk with me I am feathered form of fury truth carried on a single beating wing I rise above the noise above the distortion above the lies I am the shadow’s witness fluttering at the edge of your sight guarding the threshold between what is fair and what is due My eyes began to scan the world like lenses built from feather and fire seeing every boundary ripple where existence thins and thickens My arms stretched wide and the air answered wings without feathers feeling the edges of reality And when I spoke my voice broke open into radio human layered with crow signal layered with truth I was becoming the guide Red eye flight embers glowing through the night for the ones who cannot fight back the ones with no say no daylight I see the man on the bench still as stone quiet as surrender Is he resting Is he breaking I hover above him truth in the shadow I am feathered form of fury ember lit against the dying night I fly for the ones with no daylight the ones who cannot fight back the ones the world forgets My radio voice cuts through the noise truth carried on a single beating wing I am the crow headed guide reborn the shadow’s witness the ember in the corner of your eye guarding the threshold between what is fair and what is due Dawn bleeds into the sky as I descend ember glow fading back into feather and skin The bike path is empty now The bench is still The man is gone Only a faint ripple of air remains where my wing once stirred the world And just before the light fully arrives a shadow flutters a reminder that the crow still flies and I fly with it.
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