two ravens
spoke in tongues
sibilant sounds crossing rivers of ice
undercurrents of memory
utterances
and half remembered lullabies
whispered
beneath blackened skies
when sun was lost
my voice fell forfeit to the stinging winds
infecting forgotten places of forold
burrowing in amongst the misbegotten cold
of unacknowledged sins
... disavowing dread
your mother's voice (they said)
warned against such false pride
you devour experiences like a
starving wolf
forever bold
instead
i drifted across frozen landscapes
laid waste by ignorance
more ripe than foetid flesh
living off the dead
said the ravens of my soul
(swallowing it whole)
as corvidae are prone to do:
you should listen when the old crone speaks
ancestral wisdoms arm the weak