Fable
I lost my husband at Buffum’s
and cawed until he found me.
He still couldn’t hear, yet
through his blurred vision, a raven
flew over the battlefield. Was it over?
Ravenous raven looking for lunch.
Where is the food court?
There he goes again, off,
like it’s the most important occupation.
How far the crow flies may
depend on the barriers in the way.
A crescendo of crows, sinister as black umbrellas.
Menacing. But I’m not backing down.
Follow the raven as she soars high in the sky,
overcoming obstacles in her way.
Escaping the murder, the ebony
Raven rises on the thermal updraft
longing for solitude. Whispered secrets
are answered in silence and carried to the wind.
Soaring above sorrows, strength in motion.
Smoke below, alight west.
Waves of air from flapping wings radiate
to me, unseen. Lovely, weightless
cruise through a newly cleansed sky
transcending time and space
with focus and might.
Now we must dance for three nights against danger.
Here on The Last Frontier
Raven is Creator.
Raven is a trickster, so beware.
The raven high in the sky, a foreshadowing
of things to come during the pandemic.
Freedom, glimpsed dimly through a glass pane.
Oh, Raven, at dusk, invent for us a way to return home.
“Great spirit,” said Raven, “teach people to talk;”
he said ok and flew away.
Aware of imminent demise, the weary,
oft-quoted Raven softly utters “Nevermore!”
Original prompt: Respond to May image for Rattle’s ekphrastic challenge.
Rick Champion, Julianna M. Cruz, Natalie Champion, Frances J. Vasquez, Pat Murkland, Gudelia Vaden, James Luna, Barbara Berg, Burcu Misirli Chatham, Rose Y. Monge, Rebecca K. O’Connor, Juanita E. Mantz Pelaez, Frances T. Borella, Nan Friedley, Cindi Neisinger, Ruth Bavetta, Debby Johnson, Kris Lovekin, Sharon Sekhon, John DiFusco, Kamelyta Noor, Larry Burns, Mary Zenisek, Cati Porter
Inlandia: A Literary Journey 