Raven Tribe

26/9/09

If only the page was blank,
washed clear with tears from Lethe,
and Man's sins flushed away from Eden,
then the dank mire of Earth
would salve her health
and men's hearts feel less wooden.

And the people work to grow their crops
and cry to feel more human,
and love a few but not the rest,
and still remain heathens.

Their cries are no longer heard,
leaving the skies all vacant
and in the Wasteland the only bird
is the harshly judging Raven.

The people try to grow their crops
in places where it is raining,
and the soil runs off the land,
her fertility draining back into seas
of continued, uncaring reasons.

The people try to grow their crops
and hope to feel more human,
while love is a forgotten form
of hate amongst the fallen.

Their cries ring out under vacant skies
and their hearts are heavy, graven
for the loss of love in the first days,
and the misery of the Raven.