The Raven

By Sam Brandal

Editor Note: A poem on Paganism…

When I first encountered you, you were silent

“Quoth the Raven—”

Nevermore. You did not speak, uttered not a sound

I was lost, trapped in the endless web of my mind

When you appeared before me

A silent omen on a cold winter morning

You stared into my eyes, into my heart, my soul

You did not shiver as I, though

Whether from fear or cold, I do not know

You did not speak, but you spoke to me

I heard your words as they cut through the inescapable

“Come, child. Follow.”

As you soared off after the sun, I tried to follow

But I couldn’t. I haven’t wings, I am trapped on this earth

And so I despaired.

I despaired, and again you called to me

Everywhere I went, the sound of your silence followed:

“Come with me child.”

When next I saw you, you had changed

In every way, and in no way had you changed

For you are unmovable as the tallest mountain

You are not a healer, a poet, a scholar

You are a queen. A harbinger of death, taker

Of life. You are my savior.

You promised me death, an end to everything

And you gave me strength, filled me with your spirit

Until I could fly, follow you into the sun

I soared on broken black wings straight into my doom

And by the might and strength of the raven

I was born again as a warrior in your service.