Dusk - Where the Ravens Don't Go

A sanctuary is a special place, each person has their own, and they are all unique.

There are pests that pick my crops for me

Devour my corn

Munch my potatoes

And I can see them from my house

on a hill,

Their sinful hunger never ends

Like demons let loose from Gehenna

By their jailor and master and even their king

And the far heaven cries in pain,

Oh how it cries in pain;

But there is still my secret grove,

Deep within the woods,

Beyond the droves of evils 

That burn

As they touch my holy door

And in my glade is a single seed,

Blessed by the Lord and the savior,

And even the piper and his holy reed

Blow on the wind whatever I may need,

And they blow the cool winds ever to my secret grove,

Where the ravens don't go.

Reviews

[Nonchalant]

My favorite of all your poems so far, great build up to a title that really stuck.

[Whiskurz]

The true definition of poetry.....Great write.....Whisk