Raven

Black raven circles, tattered wing,
blood-bright embers in its stare,
croaks above a crooked beam,
rusted iron in the air

From the gallows, splintered, gray,
rope-stump swings, a fraying sting,
pounding on the frozen day,
like a broken violin string

Hemp and frost in mad embrace,
jerking in the iron gust,
time of changes cuts its trace
through our cities made of dust

Skies are clamped with leaden seams,
clouds like armor, sealed and worn,
wind is gnawing at the beams,
choking chimneys, tearing corn

Snow like ash in crooked streets,
doors that rattle, windows sigh,
something heavy slowly creeps,
war is tightening the sky

Be prepared: not all will stand,
not all names will find their dawn,
arm yourself — a naked hand
will not turn the darkness gone

Hide your children, hold your wife,
stock the water, salt, and pills,
war will bargain with your life
for burnt houses on the hills

If you live, you’ll taste the thirst
for a day without alarms,
if you live, your dear ones first
will be shaking in your arms

Do not feed the blind stampede,
fear will sell you for a song,
steady breath is what you need
to outstare the marching wrong

Bells are beating by the church,
rusted tongues in hollow stone,
sirens on the radio lurch,
shaking every fragile bone

Pull yourself from numbness, rise,
or you’ll vanish in the din,
meet the terror in its eyes,
hold your trembling, clench, and win