He watches; quiet, reflective.
No doubt he detected
The weight of my
Body-shaped shame.
My name similar to his,
Who now rots under sunlight,
Unabashed in his righteousness
To which I was blind.
I find myself here,
In a garden once perfect,
Now tainted with ******.
I heard the scratching,
Faint at first,
So I turned and saw him.
The raven watches;
Quiet, perceptive,
His gaze so effective.
His foot scratches the ground,
Making a sound that feels
Almost peaceful.
He unearths the freedom
That I need him to show me.
Just below me,
The earth is opening up.
I grab my brother's limp arm,
Drag him away
From the evidence of his harm.
Further away
From the judgment of God.
The raven approves;
He quietly nods.

when one
waddles
through
puddles
one often
gets wet
from
the feet up
then one may
get upset

yet if one
takes to water
like the duck
should not
the wet feet
from waddling
be akin to it's back
water free falling
and feet unstuck

if unducklike
you be
avoiding
the puddles
of life
may well
be the key
to a life
of dry feet
and a smiling
phsyche