I, Me and Other
Poetry by Gill Schwartz

SOUL BIRD

As the black crow I am become,
night dyed and with song
that mocks my sorest longing.

Despised object of stone and hate,
seen but remnant of the Plague,
soar I above the field and plain.

Eagles, sparrows prate of flight
yet have their nest on low or high.
Homeless only, wander weary I.

No way but scavenger to be.
Carcass, droppings, my due lone feast.
Yet Omen, Soul Bird all know in me.

 

 

 

Copyright Nathaniel Schwartz 2003   www.WisdomVisions.com