My ramblings....

The Crow, Piece 1

The crow quietly follows the man
He is tall and dark and green eyed
He walks purposefully, as though conveying he has somewhere to go
But with a slight hunch
The shoulders not straight and long
Like one who is confident beyond their own consciousness
As though the strength of their shoulders was only assigned them,
Instead, his curve forward, if only slightly
As if being drawn forward by a calling finger
Protecting the sternum, and that within

The crow watches him walk in his way
She flies overhead to gather his path
And where it might lead
The path is concrete, cold and prescripted
He's laid all these slabs himself
And is walking each step
Yet they seem to be slipping below him
Like these strange grey foundations have suddenly become as slippery as ice
Lost hold on the earth below them
They start to slip out and up from his footfalls
Still he struggles to move forward
Driven,
His eyes look forward unwavering

And yet, behind them, the look of fear begins to rise
The crow had not noticed it before
It must have been hidden deep below
Behind the ribs, low into the soul
He had gathered it up in bundles
And stuffed it into doorways
But now as he walks on this increasingly chaotic roadway
Slipping and stuttering forward as his concrete flies
The fear rises,
Like ocean waves eclipsing lower portholes

In the midst of the rocky uproar
The crow observes one moment,
On the face of the man,
Of indecision
She watches a barely discernible weakening
His face slackens
Knees sag
She can even see his fingers twitch
As if raised by an electric current
Desiring to reach sideways,
To grab for some hold

And then it passes
The man begins to viciously grab at his concrete slabs
All floating raucously in the air above his head
He snatches them furiously and slams them together
Five, seven, twenty slabs high
In one tall tower behind him
He forces it to stay

No longer will he be able to walk in the direction he came
Less he dismantles this cold cemented high rise
So he only continues to look forward, as before
Refusing to look to the side
Heated in his momentary lapse of steeled control
In which he almost leaned against the stability of outward forces

The crow flies lower, curious at the man's state
After such upheaval
He seems to have tethered the fears, tied them in tighter straps
And thrown them deep into crevice of his soul
He takes only a minute to gather himself in the silence
Straighten his back, mouth, gaze
Like a properly aligned tie
Shoulders still bent slightly
By that beckoning finger
Which seems to call him
Though he is not aware of the weight
Which it inflicts upon his body

We walks forward with his dedicated strides

The crow decides not to fly any closer
She would not be heard
And if seen, considered only petty distraction
She glances with pity at the strange man
And leaves his calculated chaos for the day

Later, that evening

the crow sits quietly in the grey light of her nest
A dove enters softly
Nudging the crow from her contemplation
The dove has a white paper in her grasp
With ancient words written upon it
The grow has her misgivings, all out of self-protection
This crow always seems to uncover the crow's discrepancies
And gently bring to light her flawed judgements
Upon the people she hovers around

On the paper is written this:
"Let your eyes look straight ahead,
Fix your gaze directly before you.
Make level paths for your feet
And take only ways that are firm.
Do not swerve to the right or the left;
Keep your foot from evil"

The crow ruffles her wings
Staring cautiously at the dove
As though asking for an verification of this truth
The dove does not shift, only gazes in return
Then departs from the nest in a shimmer of light

posted by Unknown @ 6:56 PM