Their black shine bites
my delicate gaze.
A purposeful emergence
the ravens talk of change.

White fluff floats in the sky.
The contrast affirms that
I am up
quite high.

Two ravens in sight
create a disturbance.
Loud and obnoxious,
obvious and suspecting.

Scattered flight, swooping with might
their appearance, with gusto.
“Listen, listen!” one of them says,
“We bring trust and good faith.”

The hot breeze picks up, stirs the trees.
When ravens approach, it’s best to
be still and at ease.
Receive the message like a new set of keys.

Scratching his curved beak against the rock where we sit
he looks up, his eyes an intentional stare,
opens his beak wide, pauses and says,
“Do not despair.”

Raven two silences
so raven one can be heard.
His timing is just right,
he brings so much light.

Yet the sky begins to smolder,
dark clouds circle
hanging over my shoulder.
The wind stills, black feathers move.

Inching closer the ravens
encircle my place.
Quieter now and with
a gentler pace.

“An uprising is coming, stay true
and welcome, be willing, be open”
raven one exclaims, his beak upon my arm,
he isn’t playing games.

Tap tap, tap tap.
His touch sends shivers
through my spine up
from my trunk straight into my mind.

A purple haze fills my head.
I am consumed by images of
the unseen, the divine;
to a different world I am led.

Tap tap, tap tap.
The raven blesses me once more.
I release and let go.
I trust this folklore.