The Crow By Cassandra Kulay

The crow rises, inky black wings
dripping, looking for sanctuary,
roaming manifestation of a dream.
The avatar expression of the soul,
caught between world and world,
dark and light, eyes black and bright,
leading us to introspection, steering
us in the right direction, conscience
feeding on the past, bound to make
a higher justice last, feeding on dying
hopes and memories, wanting to
achieve a lasting peace.
Shield me from everlasting grief,
my totem animal, in my hour of need.
The end is not the end, come full
circle, yet nothing will be the same
again, as when I was happy, as
when the world made sense, even
platitudes had their place.
Now, disturbed, no matter what I
feel or say, nothing can take my
sorrow away, or sooth my broken
heart, no way to end it, no place
to start.
Dissect the truth and consume my
flesh, what I know is I am not
dead yet, alive enough to feel the
pain, let stillness answer, let
sadness reign, let my soul come
back again, to you and all I had,
when I thought life was not that bad.
Too tragic the future, too traumatic
the past, I know I tried with all I had.
Now I am fading into black, no more,
no less, these experiences define
all I am.
Raise your wings and fly out of
my mind, majestic and free
at last.