We ride like birdsour heads are feathersour face is bloodour thoughts are weatherwe lay in skywe talk like songsour plans in darknesscan float like swansour friends are branchesour loves are leaveswe pray for moonlightthe wind it breatheswe’re black in snowfallwe’re death and laughterwe scavenge silverhave seen here afterour dreams are mothersour tracks are smokewe whisper childrenwe smell their hopethe love of fathersthe hunting crowsthe silent heavensthe rain that blowswe know this somewherewe know this flightwe sleep in mapsand eat the nightwe ride like birdswe’re death and laughterour heads are feathersour tracks are smoke- Mark Mordue* Above image 'Crow on a branch' by Maruyama Kyo (1733-1795)
kristiana says
Dang, I can't believe nobody got around to commenting on this yet.
It's a beautiful poem, some great lines in here. My favorites -
"our thoughts are weather"
"we know this somewhere
we know this flight"
Crow happens to be my favorite bird, despite my father's lifelong dislike of them. Maybe because of it? No, it's more complicated than that, naturally. It all ties together well though.
Or sorry, as the guy at the tattoo parlor corrected me last week, "they're ravens around here...". Ah, walking into the midst of such a testosterone drenched locale.
So then I had to correct him and say, "yeah, I know, but people 'round here tend to call them crows, and it does roll off the tongue better, don't you think?"
Crow is on her way
and on her way
and so on comes the rain.
We ride like birdsour heads are feathersour face is bloodour thoughts are weatherwe lay in skywe talk like songsour plans in darknesscan float like swansour friends are branchesour loves are leaveswe pray for moonlightthe wind it breatheswe’re black in snowfallwe’re death and laughterwe scavenge silverhave seen here afterour dreams are mothersour tracks are smokewe whisper childrenwe smell their hopethe love of fathersthe hunting crowsthe silent heavensthe rain that blowswe know this somewherewe know this flightwe sleep in mapsand eat the nightwe ride like birdswe’re death and laughterour heads are feathersour tracks are smoke- Mark Mordue* Above image 'Crow on a branch' by Maruyama Kyo (1733-1795)
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