Raven-Ghosts

Many handsome ghosts I meet,    
   
A measure together we soar  
   
Circling in updrafts shared  
   
Below the world turns small.  
   
Raven-Ghosts pass through,    
   
Burning fingertip trails,    
   
 On the walls of this chambered nautilus  
   
Tracing hungry messages  
   
As only men can do.  
   
Drawing wishes charting course  
   
Across the beaded waters of my looking glass.    
   
 Some hover for hours, days,    
   
Their echos ripple insistent  
   
Windows, doors they’ve  drawn    
   
Abiding open in their wake  
   
 Tailfeathers lost in their passage  
   
Rock gently down  
   
 To blue in emptied aching skies.  
   
Some Raven-Ghosts entrench  
   
Trace and linger long,    
   
Crossing seasons,    
   
Nestlng preening strutting  
   
Gifting bones, bits of shell, their favorite stones,    
   
Indian givers, searing their brand to your core  
 
Strong, strange beaks and talons,  
   
Broad dark wings, shelter and storm  
   
Tethering, piercing, possessive    
   
The bright inscrutable eyes of men  
   
Insist, assess, keep, and mark.  
   
Messaging designs, stories    
   
They migrate righteous, raucous    
   
Through a woman’s steam and light,    
   
The outlines of flight sound    
   
Piercing,  sweet “I will stay,”    
   
Before winging raven-obscure away.    
   
Look up, look out  
   
Steady in the long lone crossing,    
   
Give your tears to the tide*  
   
Give it up, and give again  
   
Wisp of feathered girl, woman, brooding child’s bone,    
   
It is the mark and flight of each Ghost-Raven  
   
That reminds we are still not home.    
   
Give reign  
   
To the hot, hardworking stone    
   
Pounding  solo still  
   
 Below your light wishbone.  
   
The murder of ravens,    
   
Drop one by one  
   
Over the horizon’s hem,  
   
Their shadows play a net  
   
 Cast fast and  bright,    
   
Running swift beside your own  
   
For some little time  
   
Their wingtips trailing postscript,  your keepsake  
   
Men, boys,  strange and restless  
   
Black and bright  
   
Kind and cruel    
   
Brave and lost  
   
Each leaving his tell, always  
   
On the million broken mirrors  
   
That veil your vast jade sea.  
   
   
*borrowed phrase from “Wait” by M83. Please listen to Evil Beauty by Blackmill while reading. https://youtu.be/uAFjgpuWREM