I
h
a
v
e
f
e
e
l
i
n
g
s
that
form
thou
ghts,
that
form
words,
that          form
sente            ­     nces,
that                       form
rope,                         which
ties                               itself
into a                            noose.
Your                         ­     words
are also                    a rope,
that saves me from
drowning.

Murderous brood you chill my spine
with screeching caw and shrill,
your message mischievous and malign.
Pecking loudly on my sill.

Inside I hide in candles light,
creaking bones of this old dwelling.
Timbers voice speaks through the night,
expanding lumbers constant swelling.

Reflection caught but not quite sure,
shadows walk with weary shift.
Childrens whispers sound the lure
and through this house their voices drift.

Things go bump and rearranged,
is my mind so far away.
Torments that cannot be explained,
send me into disarray.

I try to act in normal manner,
completing in my usual way.
Although my speech is now in stammer,
I often kneel down and pray.

Outside the weather got gradually worse,
the murderous brood in disarray.
Thunderous clapping, voices its curse
but still ebony stalkers won't go away.

Feathery missiles pound from without,
the mission it seems is to gain entrance.
The message clear and without doubt,
no longer happy on the fence.

From out of the heavens a lightning strike,
the gleaming bolt and the power it shows
illumination, I have not seen the like,
outside my window a flock of burnt crows.

Shortly the sun made its presence known.
The whispering ceased, demeanor had eased.
This aged building has now lost its groan
and for the first time I am feeling quite pleased.

At last a home where I fear no more,
nothing of bother I truly can swear,
perhaps this was God who did even the score,
I wonder if this was the power of prayer?

children of the darkness,
listen in
you pretend that it doesn't
bother you,
but we know that you're just
concealing it,
from the prying eyes which
stare profusely,
through the dying light into
your own.

and you shake with the anticipation
of another
shot of alcohol dripping down your
aching throats,
numbing the pain of freshly broken
hearts.
and instead of screaming helplessly
at skies
of crimson, you watch the tears stream
down your cheeks.