The Raven

The Raven

 

A child of the South but fair as the North,

Eyes of ice, with a jet mane.

She walked in, paralyzing all who stopped and stared,

Like the Ancient Grecians’ very bane.

But will I be made of stone as well?

 

Or break and feed of the very freedom

She exudes, the irony of broken bonds

To renew my heart, and restart my breath.

Stay not stationary, I will abscond

To a place where bravery faces fear.

 

And my feet do their duty without hesitance,

My mouth works with the power of a bard,

Where ears listen intently without judgment.

And I am blessed and renewed through this start.

Perhaps the last of this broken, winding journey.