Crow Man
The young crow came and looked me in the eye,
Cocked his head and gave his wicked cry.
It seemed he slowly slipped into my mind,
Laughed his laugh. I left my dreams behind.
He showed me things I never thought I’d see.
In fields of wheat we found an ancient tree.
We landed there beside a cowboy ghost
Who turned into an entertaining host.
He said, “You know, in spirit you’re my child.
You’ve grown up sad and often been quite wild.”
He showed me streets where folks bled caustic oil
And where the dead were part of caustic soil.
I saw their bones consumed beneath my feet
And in the chill I had no body heat.
He showed me rivers white with human dust
And crumbling ghetto walls you couldn’t trust.
“I know, my son, you’ve seen it all before;
The grime, the hate and years of being poor.
One day you’ll be that ghost up in the tree,
When you and I will share eternity.”
Then, as a crow, he quickly flew away.
His last words were, “You’d better learn to pray.”
They echoed as I turned to face the wind.
There was no hope for me because I’d sinned.
Copyright © Pam Murray | Year Posted 2021
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