When the Raven Came The raven’s wing was so close to my head the swooshing split my being wide open. Like an unexpected christening, the gray air of angels. Nothing has been the same since. I am here now with the air and earth under the wing of gratitude sitting in the trees covered with mossy fur watching. My eyes transport my body into all things beginning and ending. A full view of the world birthing, the grave, both an equal struggle. The river, the dirty bank, wild daisies. The green things eaten. The meat and the bone. The shame that is required to kill to live without this great misery we are lost. There will not be bread upon the water nor a small hand of a god, that dips into some luminescent pool. to heal you. Salvation is walking through it. No matter how good, angry or pleasant That it’s a relief that you did not have to suffer like another the same waits for you it comes to you as all great sorrow loss terror comes whether you feel it in your bones or flesh or you watch it with your tired eyes. It comes to pull you into the meat of life Place you slanted into the deep water. Baptism and release. See there out of the corner of your eye? The small bird lights on that branch? It has known far more sorrow than you and sings.
J.V. Foerster has been published in: Eclectica, Agnieszka’s Dowry, Midnight Mind, Premiere Generation Ink, Fickle Muse, Oak Bend Review, Fox Chase Review, Elohi Gaduji to name just a few. She has work forthcoming in The Fiery Scribe,The Bluebird Word and Orchard Lea Anthology. She was nominated in 2011 for a Pushcart for her poem “Apple Girl” and included in Rosemont College Anthology. She is also a published painter and photographer. J.V. lives in Portland, Oregon.