I went to the cemetery today one I hadn't been to in years, to find relatives forgotten who just came to light in memory and conversation. I brought flowers, vivid red poinsettias so blatant against the gray cloudy light. Odd how the sunlight made the dark overcast bearable,an almost inner glow the only lightening of mood in this secluded place. It's as if the world had forgotten this place, while hundreds of crows were everywhere; hanging in trees sitting on tombstones swooping about, I thought little of it, my mind intent on the task at hand as I searched the landscape for familiar landmarks. Turned around trying to retrace my steps, I trampled through mud my boots suddenly heavy restricting my every move. I finally found a familiar tree, and stood beneath its barren limbs as they scratched in the wind, before walking forward and counting the rows. Success at last, and shame at neglect. I bent to clear the grave of weeds and leaves, while overhead they gathered, one or two at first, then twenty and then a hundred more. My heart beat crazily in my chest, the hair standing up straight on the back of my neck. Thoughts of reels, horror movies like "The Birds." flickered before my eyes while their caws screeched against my nerves. Odd birds, bending their heads so their piercing black eyes could get a better look. The eeriness made me want to run away and hide. What to do, what to do, if I ran what then, the power of their beaks became impressed in my brain, surely they could rip me apart? Fear perspired even in the cold, and a bleak feeling of dread filled my heart. Had I found these loved ones only to become one with them, quite literally? There was not another live soul around, only me and these ****** red flowers, why had I been so dumb to come alone? Hadn't I seen the hundreds upon hundreds of these birds when I came in? Now the numbing cold invaded my bloodstream. I planned to move slowly, not run, and to act as if nothing was wrong. I found a metal flower holder, but stuck the flowers in the ground thinking to use it as a weapon. Good luck with that, for now the landscape was black, all of them watching and waiting. Waiting for what? I said a silent prayer fervent in my fear. As if by magic it began to rain, hard drops icy cold pelting me and the crows, a siege of watery soldiers falling from plum and black low hanging clouds, not just falling but stabbing hard as the wind drove them like jack hammers. Finally the crows gave up, casting piercing eyes and opening widespread wings as they flew away. Still a few flew overhead circling, their cries like those of landlocked souls, saddened my heart. I gathered sodden self and said a fervent thank you, as I rushed away, thinking even as I ran over the tombstone covered terrain, "what would have happened it hadn't stormed?"
Actually I love crows and once danced in the middle of a flock that swirled around me as I danced in the wind, throwing chips into the air and I loved every moment of it. But this day I felt threatened, was it my imagination or the power of hundreds upon hundreds of these powerful birds.