The crow’s call

Posted by in poem

There came a sound of loud proportions,
A carrion cry of the uncounted legions;
Which sitting atop his high throne,
The dealmaker could not make undone.

He sat burdened by these thoughts of his,
Alive now in a reality shrouded by mist;
And peering out his window did he see,
A solitary crow perched upon a tree.

And the crow cawed in hoarse abandon,
Of the deeds to be done, under that sun.

The battlefield lay empty and bare,
Of all life there was none to care.
For corpses lay littered where lillies had been,
And scavengers roamed where once there was green.

Hyenas and vultures did share in the loot;
Their appetite did it splendid suit.
And amongst these was a single speck,
Of the darkest black, a raven sat.

And the crow cried in hoarse abandon,
Of deeds that were done, under that sun.

It started a spark,
Grew into a blaze.
The perpertuators gaze,
Smiled at the brown haze.

Untold lives were destroyed that day;
Such upon which human eyes never lay.
For their greed did blind to all but the sheen,
Of gold, solely worthy they deemed.

Barren land was all that was left,
Under the war machines handled so deft.
And the black spectre was present that day,
Mourning the loss of its home; its lay.

And the crow cawed in hoarse abandon,
For deeds that were done, under that sun.

The mother’s answer came at last,
Her final cry was felt as a blast.
All in her quiver were called to bear,
The judgement for all from her ire.

Enough had she suffered the vagaries of creations,
The uncaring destruction by her children.
This was her last answer,
The cure to her own cancer.

The seas rose at her beckoning,
Slowly they crawled, ever consuming;
The ground shattered, swallowing,
For the clean slate she was making.

Up in the air, the realm of the tempests,
One as never seen before tested;
Gobbling up all it finds,
All-pervasive it shall grind.

Till the time when mother quiets,
And looks at the aftermath of her riots;
For guilt at seeing all being barren,
For they were bad, but were her children.

And no crow would caw in hoarse abandon,
For the deeds that were done, under that sun.