Early Reaping
A crow carried my soul away
Too many years before I passed
Beyond my body breaking low
I parted gladly in his grasp
Not soon enough for saving though
I was no longer fit for that
Having been born savagely so
Ravaged quite well before the act
He flew in through the window
His winging swirling broken glass
Swooping he scooped my spirit up
And gave me leave from living fast
But what to do with wispy me
Pitied much sooner than was tasked
We are each other’s chore forever
More with purgatory ticking past
-a.r.
Touch in the Mist by Ryta
A fantastical retelling of dissociation during abuse, I have written about “the window” several times before, and clearly I was inspired by that well-loved B’more POEt.
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