La Mort

Once upon a time,

A black crow landed at my feet

It was able to speak

A language I couldn’t understand

It spoke very animated

I wish I could comprehend

What the little bird was trying to say

Its voice had the soothing liasion of the French

But spoke with the power of the German tongue

And the precise intonations of English jargon

Knowing this however

Didn’t help me understand my new avian friend.


I debated whether it was hungry or hurt

I happened to have bread

Having done my shopping

After work

I broke off a morsel and chucked it

For my hungry friend

But it kept on talking

Still I did not understand

I tried to reach for it

To see if it was hurt

But it fluttered away from me

Then came close again


In the sky

There was a thousand birds

Couldn’t tell whether they were crows

The crow looked up

Then looked back at me

It pointed one of its wings to the sky

And kept on talking

Then it dawned on me what it looked like

Like a witness of something mad

Is there trouble little friend?

Are those birds running away?

The crow took a tiny step and flew away


As if forgetting something

The crow flew back at me

And in perfect English

Said to me

I’m a raven not a crow

And I’ll be back for you

Each of us must retrieve one soul

But you’ve been kind

I’ll give you time

Go and hide

It took flight

In the opposite way.

One thought on “La Mort”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: