Guest Writer: Night of The Crow
Ever read something that made chills claw up your spine? Or lodged a black knot of dread in the back of your throat so cold that you thought you might choke?
Dakota Vangelov is a fellow writer–a recent graduate of Tuacahn High School. He graciously allowed us to share his most recent work with all of you. Poetry is incredibly subjective; I am sure our guest author has his own interpretation of the poem we are sharing with you today, but the metaphor of his piece spoke to me with such power that I felt myself transported into the realms of shardwell as he spoke, confronting Kirion himself. If you would rather see the author perform it himself, click here:
Night of The Crow
by Dakota Ashton Vangelov
The very essence of pain, anger, sorrow,
Burying its victims ten feet below,
Taking away innocent love, overthrowing what was peace,
Killing here and there a wonder, flying like geese,
Dominating with an icy stare its opponents in the nighttime breeze.
Oh, its prideful face,
Wooing strangers not knowing of its disgrace,
Leading them softly, to not have them run or race
Away from its domineering power,
Holding the keys as he locks you in a tower
Where there you can’t escape, not now or ever.
With its dark bag of tricks,
He keeps you unaware, oh, yes this
Is his one great plan, confusing you with a kiss,
Then pressing deeper, deeper! –
Until your heart in pain boils over,
Violated like a black coal that it was not before, never.
Yes, it was that same very Crow that took you from me.
Damn it to hell, where once its home, it broke free!
Why could you not look, why couldn’t you see,
That he was no great man, an Alexander the Great,
But a man full of scornful seduction who did plan for and wait
To kill you, my own heart, in a storm full of hate?
So flap onwards, shoo! – while you still can, and fly,
Far from his shadows, Away from his lies,
Look, even now a bluebird cries
Out a warning to the night,
Love while you can, and throw away spite,
Out of the darkness and into the light,
So take ahold of your feelings, and grasp them so tight,
For who may again know when this crow will take flight?