She is Black

They are black,

the rowdy crowd of crows,

(Rea Kronia)

un-crowned crones,

cronies,

donning such somber clothes.

Their eyes are stars

attracted to all things bright.

Sleek, polite,

they greet me

in raucous peace

(sharp beak and claw,

ravenous maw, gaping craw,

they gnaw the hours raw.)

I watch them come and go,

spread wings of feathered Nyx,

onyx, devouring night.

__________________________________

I thank you, shaman visitors,

for the gift of your speech,

communal language I have ached to learn.

Thank you for your dream-time visit

(in a Hopi kiva In a red dress

for stolen sisters!)

You bring redress

from patriarchy’s black-robe hate.

Thank you for Presence,

cause for awe,

for my fearlessness before you,

for that “thing with feathers,”

Hope! Taho!

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018