Unless we are enlightened beings, losing a loved one is devastating. My friends of 40+ years lost their younger sister a few days ago to necrotizing pneumonia. The onset was sudden and death came quickly. I am grieving.
I am also remembering those who daily face the danger of losing their lives in the blink of an eye, because they live on the streets. They are called The Homeless. They are the unseen. Judged and neglected, they have as much a right to life, prosperity, and happiness as those of us who meet our basic needs without giving a thought to those who scavenge for their daily bread. And they are brilliant.
On April 6th, my dear friend Sue Dreamwalker published a post about the GallyBloggers. who share thoughts and poems written by the homeless on the streets of the UK. Their excellent works are a testament to the fact that poverty and ignorance do not go hand in hand.
I hope you will visit their site and offer your support to these most deserving poets. I also hope this post will serve as a memorial to my friends’ departed sister ~ loved and cherished ~ who is not departed at all…
Read Sue’s post HERE
~ Dark Raven ~ By ~ Scruffy Dude ~
Carrion darkened the dawn on Bryn’s White Mount.
Lingering longingly amongst us.
Thoughtfully accounting silently counting.
Else discounting unsavoury cuts.
“Cras! Cras! Cras!” cackled Mugin’s merry Crow.
“Today a proud fallen hero!”
“Tomorrow! Tomorrow! Tomorrow!”
“Fallen fellow ploughed fallow!”
I lay betwixt this realm and next.
A wash of grey shedding shadow.
Silently waiting beside where I’d died.
With nowhere else to go.
I remember nothing of the felling strike.
Or might or bite of glinting steel.
But wild eyes wild with wild dark light.
Left to fade and slowly congeal.
I recall into my blood-red dawn.
Rushed swarthy swaths of shady hue.
Tides of flocking mocking malicious spawn.
Upon dark Raven wings they flew.
To searing pain raced blackened rain.
Death tumbling upon the bloody mire.
Tumbling stumbling strutting stabbing.
Into souls ready to expire.
Slicing slashing claws rasping raking.
Hungry for flesh and shattered bone.
For spills and spoils tokens ‘n’ trinkets.
For scalps and scraps for home.
Savagely cutting carving stealing stalking.
Crowing and scavenging corpses.
Pecking and pruning at souls still reeling.
Felled laying fallen in mori mortis.
Then to my sight appeared a considerable bird.
Chiselled marble dressed cobalt blue.
“Cras!” cursed the Raven’s…
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