The Crow

A man thinks of the past, a crow comes to his door.

I woke to the rain tapping on my window
And the wind rapping
Rapping at my door.

I turned over to try and sleep once more
But the rapping I could not endure.

So I got up and found things to do
But the rapping continued through
The day and into the night
So loud it had me gripped in fright.

Another day of rapping I could not endure
So I went slowly to the door
And there I found the source of the rapping
A crow.

It flew and landed at my feet
In its eyes I saw not defeat but life
Life that dances to a different beat.

I sat in the dark with a black chest and white face
And for the next few nights
I wore a smile on my face.

So without fear, hurt or a mere test
I got revenge on those I detest
And held the ones I love to my beating heart and breast.

I tell them I have to leave
To god’s country
With my soul freed.

And yet I wonder if I pounded
On his door on the day he likes to rest
Will he snore or hear me
Like the rain on my window
And the crow at my door.