The Crows Misunderstood Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

Mid morning at my april desk

emerging from unsettled rest

I thought how odd that dropping



the pebble God into a poem

raises such a stir and then I thought, I heard

how that effect makes me want to whisper yet

beyond all meaning and regret



God and more God God God God God God

and suddenly I thought of crows in their tenebrae

and how they rose when I was a child in an infinite clatter and

wildness


and scuttled the sky



with caws no! It was God as they arose God God God God

through all november and no one knows we got the coding wrong of

their too brazen song



and that perhaps the raven blue black as ink guards us ever from the

brink

the flood in its plum dark beak and fused



speaking God God God into the mists and into the abyss

where we have forgotten his name and God God God summoning the rains

the stars the distance where You ARE

light as we become our winter selves again the crows



scattering bituminous diamonds half made in haste and

over our sleep. That we might remember Him.


mary angela douglas 15 april 2020