Monday, July 11, 2011

blue and black



Again, it was morning.
There was me and my tea,
the birdsong and the ceiling of blue.

There were 8 crows and a ruckus,
and gravestones across the way.
There was death amid the already dead.

They were at it once more,
that heart-tugging ritual of sacrificing
another baby for their own.

It was a chipmunk or a rabbit
that was tormented and shredded
while a look-out stood watch from a stone.

I did not turn away.

I did not turn away.

It was morning.

The sky was blue
and the feathers were black

And there was life.


3 comments:

  1. oh oh oh. my god. reading my heart and mind again. a conversation i had yesterday with a friend, that life and death thing, one requiring the other, that looking away makes us smaller.

    life is not for the faint of heart.

    xoxo

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  2. ooh, what an image, what a chronicling of that cycle. i have a thing for crows, though so many people dislike them. you are brave and i love this, the sky blue, the feathers black. life.

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  3. I is difficult to look, but at the same time we become mesmerized. Love the words shared here.

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