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(a good woman, too) Photo © Jennifer Wagner (artwork found at Gus's, a local restaurant fav) |
The crows were the only lights—
the moon, cloaked in cloud,
made glints on their wings
just enough to see the shape of things
as they were.
But I’d seen enough
of that
black sky,
choked enough noxious smoke
in that pitiless city.
For too long,
I’d felt the dark bruise of my heart
spreading like disease.
Birds don’t always sing
me awake—those crows,
brilliant as sunrise,
with their ink-soaked wings,
dropped their quills in my palms,
and, for the brooding imp of my mind,
a map home
by pressing pain to page.
© 2026 Jennifer Wagner
We’re using color at dVerse. Anyone else found writing poetry helps process pain, or get out of the blues? ;-)