The Raven’s Song

For National Poetry Month (Are you sick of them yet? lol) …


The Raven’s Song



Stomach down in the bed



Partially shielded by warm cotton sheets in the cool April night

Whispering against her lotion-softened skin

Dawning and baring

Her heart wonders

Wandering beats

What it is about the raven’s mystique that clutches at her weary soul




Its talons hurt

Sometimes she forgets to hole herself up where the pain cannot enter


She sees him through uncomprehending eyes that don’t quite conceal her perplexion

Quaking — this vulnerability

She is his slave to love

Not he, hers

And he, he lives freely

Taking flight at a whim

She stays grounded


Longing to curl up on the tips of his fluttering wings

Merging with the dark night wind like the joining of man and woman

Shadowing her haunted eyes


She plummets

She has not yet learned to live

Berates herself for her imprisoning cowardice

Burning one moment

Freezing another

The raven devours the world with its eagle eyes


Her soul is hungry to flap its wings alongside

No intended destination

No worries


The raven smiles sadly

Tucking its own hurts underneath its satiny feathers


Inspirational flapping

She pours herself into her writing

And he, his love songs

Harsh rasping

This bittersweet mating within

Bored and restless

Gentle and soothing

She shuts her eyes

Envisioning the outline of his lips

Twitching upward


She drifts off

Unknowingly clutching the raven’s outstretched wing


Her soul and his.


6 thoughts on “The Raven’s Song

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