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Oh! Ten ton,
the bags of life.

And I shot him;
the crow with a telegram.
He’d carried my being,
[and my baby‘s]
under his wing.

Now, I am not a mother.

His echo grated my nails
and soul
as he passed; screeching
“a rose is a rose is a rose.”

Yet, I feel this weight!

Wasn’t she worth the candle,
waning her to sleep;
nor isn’t a heart worth a bandage
to mop these spilling beads?

No! Crow left; old as the hills,
and I clutch this burden.

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The following comments are for "The Crow"
by silverscent

The Crow
I liked this, made me think, made me read it again, opened up several possibilities of meanings.

( Posted by: TheRealKarmaTseringLhamo [Member] On: August 9, 2007 )

to me
this speaks eloquently of abandonment and loss and their place as common threads in our collective human history... like RealKarma, I see many possible interpretations... I think the crow lends its self well to these manifold meanings, being as old in human conscious as sorrow itself... skilfully written. so nice to read you again.

( Posted by: AuldMiseryGuts [Member] On: August 13, 2007 )

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