Thursday, August 13, 2009

The Visitor

Crow came to me in a dream

my spirit guide, to show me

what I once was

thousands of years ago.

His black feathers were iridescent in moonlight

broad wings and strong beak

gestured as he spoke.

I understood in the language of sleep.

I come from earth, dark, rich

moist with worms.

I come from skies and clouds,

thunder and rain.

I come blown from the winds

borne aloft and soaring skyward.

I come from the mountains

swept along riverbeds with melting snows

trickling the byways of streams

seeping into bedrock.

I come from the volcano

out of hot lava

spilling in rivulets down the sides.

I come from the down

of a new born chick

ugly, vulnerable, helpless.

We are not so different said Crow.

We have come from the same places

We are ancient.

Find your feathers

they will free you

but you must be willing

even to be slandered,

to be case in dark shadows

I awoke

black feathers on my doorstep

Shadow of a wing

Guardian of my soul.

November 2008

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