Suburban Night (Crow Flies)

Evening sky gathers — dusk does stand-by.
The makings of a fire lay ready to be lit.
The branches of my tree hang overhead,
rustling from the breeze passing around,
just a bit.

My ancestral bird sleeps peacefully,
wrapped in cosmic energy,
upon the trunk of my garden’s tree.
Waiting for all the ingredients of good-bye.

Mind and force to be let fly — to be free —
re-join the sky.
Evening bird song surrounds my suburban site,
The merriment makers — unseen in the trees —
speak wistful, longing tunes to appease;
the restless forces that struck-down
the black-feathered Messenger that watches over me,
withdraw to the fringe of the circle of light in the night.

And I in solemnest, prepare to say goodbye,
This night in suburbanite existence.
I in unseen guidance, follow the dictates
of mysterious yearnings from my genetic past —
the ceremony to allow my crow familiar to fly.

The darkness settles in the moment,
the night-birds chatter stilled by unseen forces;
the fire crackles, flames intense with glow and heat,
and my companion in the feathered flesh,
now burns, it’s spirit thus released.

At peace, the night and I hidden from prying eyes,
behind the privacy of fences galvanised.

This space, this place, this time, my sacred fire,
all unite to conspire in improvised ritual —
thought-waves transpired by many,
as this crow — its essence — my grand-ancestry,
is thus again released to Dreamtime realms unknown,
and fool the contemptuous ignorance of the many.

© DjA “Crowmanic” (June 1999)

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Tags:

aboriginal, death, fire, indigenous, life, mythology, poetry, ritual, suburbia and totem