White Raven


Perched in the rafters

Keen eyes watching

Always watching

After all you’re the messenger of the All Father

At least to some

You’re just a trouble maker


Uncomfortable with any truth that is not yours.
Harbinger of death

Omen of ill fortune

You soar the skies

Harassing the kites

Harrying the eagles even

Mob justice at its finest

When you steal kills

And tell stories of a hunt you never made.
You preen golden feathers from your plumage

Dancing in scarlet blood

When you proclaim judgement on carrion

Preaching injustice and prejudice

Sowing discord and reaping chaos

Carry on!

Douse yourself with dust.
Mock the jays

Rob the cocks

Stab the robins

Swallow the sparrows

Clean up with the bustards and buzzards

Unwanted one

Not fit for anything but gossip.
You see nothing good

Except for you

At least your brethren do not hide themselves in their inky blackness

Your magpie cousins love the shiny things

But you?

You stand out in full colour

You’re an apostate

Conspicuous in the harangue of your self proclaimed enlightenment.
Your duty to religion will be the death of you

It snows not here

And while you glide the thermals for the latest gossip

Some trigger happy kid will shoot you out of the sky with a sling

His daddy will stuff you and put you in a display case for quick cash

You’re your own ill omen

Life is the harbinger of your doom

False prophet

Freak of nature!

Be consumed by your own lies

Oh one more thing

Next time be born black.


image courtesy @archillects on twitter
© sena frost ’17


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