Four Crows

He parks to deliver an Amazon package,
while I sit quietly in the passenger seat.
My eyes catch Four Crows swirling above,
a whispered sign—I'm on the right path.

Dreams replay like cryptic riddles,
their hidden messages teasing my soul.
I walk slower now, ears attuned
to the daemon within,
a voice others name ancestor or guardian.

So tread lightly when you approach me.
Choose your words like delicate threads—
if it's war you seek,
you'll wage it against yourself,
not with me.

I dreamed of darkness trailing my steps,
its shadow vast, unrelenting.
I stopped, let it consume me whole.
Argued with my father about faith
until silence wrapped his lips.
Anger swelled—how could he forsake me?
Yet time revealed his quiet truth.

Now I trace life's symbols in waking hours,
reading its clues with a softer heart.
How to describe this strange awakening?
It is freedom—this embrace of pain and love,
woven together like life's harsh lessons.

One crow, two crows, three, then four each a herald, a story, a reckoning.

NP