Calling in the Crows
Written years ago on my relocation to the city from the sanctuary of my country retreat in Aberdeenshire and missing my crows.
Hear my voice in your cold dark dawn
frosty branches and purple streaked sky.
Awake!
rouse yourselves!
heads removed from covering wing.
Come now, to this small city dwelling.
Fly above the cliffs and the barren cornfields,
majestic architecture and city churches.
Let me hear your noisy ponderings
as to the reason for your summons
in adjacent bleak trees,
devoid now of foliage,
mute,
trusting in seasons.
Sloping down to the river
flowing always flowing…
Like life,
breath..
no matter what the day
has brought.
En-masse, your precious black bodies
reminiscent of *Armadale
talk to me beyond words,
beyond worlds….
Become a covert shield,
A dark place of re-connection;
Power.
Come now with comfort
and tales of new tomorrows on your beaks;
Petitioned from the steel horizon
by one who loves to hear your stories.
Cover me in blue black feathers,
share your beating hearts with me.
Shelter me
among your squawking chaos.
Peck me
to life.
Alison Stormwolf, 2011
*Armadale Name of the cottage.
Wow! That’s a strong piece, Alison. Very enjoyable read. Thank you.
Coincidentally I read something this morning – elsewhere on the interweb – about them having determined that Crows can evaluate their own thoughts; something previously thought unique to humans. Spooky!
Allen x
Hi Allen,
Crows get a very bad rap. they are incredibly intelligent and strange to say, they were great company in the trees round my house.
I am glad you enjoyed this poem. It is more mind-stream than precise but I wanted to capture my thoughts as I sat in reverie one frosty winter morning when feeling strangely alienated in my new home here in the city.
I will never look at crows in the same way again after having lived among them for two years.
Alison x
the crows
according to a woman I met online here she was searching for her comrade soulmate and she thought that perhaps it was me, according to her when the souls that are destined to fight together meet a transmutation takes place, they become crows and as crows they guard the world.
weird lady and I thought I was weird
tee hee
so your poem reminded me of her theory, the crows can revive.
xx
Sorry for delay in replying Nic. I was suddenly assailed by a feeling of apathy at things
That is interesting. Crows are also the spirit messenger that flies between worlds.
Alison x
in her opinion everything happens in the astral realm and that’s what becoming a crow means, dunno what else she had in mind, because she was too austere even for me, and I prefer oppositesexual lovebirds instead. hope I made you smile! xx
Did indeed give me a laugh. I am an auld crow haha.;-)
x
Powerful stuff, Alison. Great imagery. Not sure about ‘Peck me to life’ at the end.
Nice to reconnect. I will get around to posting eventually. Cheers. Tony.
Hi Tony
Haha the last line is the most important line in the poem.
I am explaining my need to reconnect to my spiritual nature now surrounded by buildings in the city.
My relationship to crows is different from the majority who often view them as sinister.
So in poetic licence I have substituted life instead of death because it is stark in its contrast and they do bring inner life to me.
I hope that explains that line.
Thanks for reading.
Alison x