I have seen this crow standing atop the gravestone
I know it’s the same crow because of the battle scars
marking its claws and beak
I have seen this crow when I bury a comrade
It stares at the crowd, the casket, then me
I hate seeing the crow every time I lay a comrade to rest
I know it’s the same crow because of the battle scars
marking its claws and beak
I have tried to kill the crow but it always eludes me
I have lost my faith along the way
The crow is always there when I return to visit my comrades
Maybe if I regain my faith the crow will go away
But for the time being, I have lost my way
Poetry
Comments are closed.
Very nice.