At The Gates Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

A raven waits at my gates
Rusted shut and covered with vines
As I bide my time in the depths of myself,
Resting in deep meditation.

She caws at dawn and dusk
But otherwise watches in silence
Alert for some sign of life
In the desolate plains that surround us.

It has been eons since we arrived
Covered with the blood and ashes of battle.
Ego shattered, wounds seeping,
I sought the dark while my raven stood guard.

Together we have waited for a herald.
A messenger from a new king, or queen,
With word of the defeat of old foes
And the dawn of a new reign.

Then, I may rise from my den,
I may breathe fire on these eggs,
And once again stretch my scaly wings,
So nearly petrified, and fly.

But for now the mortals struggle on,
Scratching what they can from soil
Drenched in blood and torn up by hooves
For more seasons than those of peace.

And so they starve and shiver
Through woodless winters
While the victors live on their labor
Content with their temporary wealth.

But tonight the crow sings a new signal.
An army marches from the east.
The clouds roil in the sky, the vultures cluster.
So now I rise, breathing fire into the night sky.

It begins yet again.
I swallow my tail
To give birth to an eternity
Of hope.