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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