deepundergroundpoetry.com
THE RAVEN IN TRIUMPH
Hope comes with the falling rain
Underneath, all are the same
Yearning pulses like a vein
Every breath would quell disdain
Glacial ice becomes the sea
Carries doubt away from me
Through the darkness, she could see
Far away I seem to be
The trench between, vast indeed
A feather rests in my hand
Stolen from the sun, my need
A moonlight-dimmed sarabande
Her glance turned flesh into stone
And from it, I could atone
Scar from navel to her chest
A fate that she’d laid to rest
Fingers of death left their trace
None would see it in her face
Heart that bled the deepest shade
Blind of what the mask portrayed
And I could show her the ghost
Pariah of foreign home
And I covet her the most
From the shadows that I roam
She’s the raven in triumph
Above what she had mourned of
With crippled wing, painful health
Flying towards eternal wealth
And with ephemeral eye
Two figures shared between skies
I hope for those arms in time
Like rain, to fall into mine
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