As the Crows Fly
A Vagabond Collection Post
The abandoned child hides in
twisted knots of disquietude
full of shadows, bowing
and does cave, weakened
with fearful apprehension.
Pitched against the cold, the voiceless,
downstream after the rapids
rock juts and rough currents
orphaned, a shadow
in the shadows of hushed desperation.
The bitter winds unrepentant
the child laid guilty without a crime
never even knowing a crew, boom, mast or rudder
blindly struggling to etch a safe niche to nest and sow.
And with whom to share the forge?
no velvety fur to warm the den
empty of that soul-hearted embrace
surviving the physical realm
blanket-less on the cold-hearted ground.
In the evaporating equanimity
amidst such tense fragility
growing only a hunger to flee
the ceaseless weight
of trampled dreams.
With an unfathomable courage, an ironic strength
a soulful, resilient heart can steer the vessel
to mitigate this existential quandary
and withstand the storms, to eke out a fortitude
to witness fruits of endurance
as the crows fly.
~ namasté, Leah J. 🕊
🕊 embracing mindful, empowering transformations🕊
© Leah J. Spence 2019, All Rights Reserved