Fallen Crow


While walking in Carpinteria

I felt a presence from the sky

a life crashed to the ground

Swoosh, it splattered dead

It was a black crow

I looked into the dark clouds

I looked to the telephone lines

Murders of crows were speaking–

cries, squeals, angry barks

aggressive flapping of wings.

The sky felt heavy and cold

One of their own had died

They were having a funeral

Only crows allowed, they implied

I was saddened by the dead crow

Its body laying lifeless in the street

I wanted to stay and pay my respects

but I feared the crows in that instant

I feared the crows would blame me

I feared the crows would choose me

to take out their anger and loss

for their fallen brother

their beloved family member.

For more on crows, read my Meditation on Crow in the Elephant Journal

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