I see you, black crow,
Morsel clutched in your beak,
With all your might and strength
Pushing forward
Through each gust,
Through each breaking wave of wind.
And above, black crow, do you see
That strand of birds
Flowing across the sky,
Fighting to hold their shape,
But over and over again
Shoved out of place by the storm;
Weaving out and back in again,
In and out, out and in,
So fully determined.
Black crow,
Did you feel the brief moment
When this same insistent wind
Turned this mild warm day
Into a shocking downpour of freezing rain;
See these icy drops,
Needle sharp and numbing,
Piercing my face, my chest, my hands,
Pressing me, pushing me,
Attempting to pound me
Into the concrete beneath my feet?
Black crow, can you see
My delighted grin
As I push right back,
Press on, move forward,
Bring my hand to my chest
From time to time,
Just to feel that it's still there?
Pushing through this storm,
Can you feel yourself,
Black crow, growing stronger;
Can you sense the steadfastness
And solidarity of the string
Of birds above;
Can you see in my face
That my heart's fire burns hotter
And grows brighter with each step forward?
This is the living,
The feeling, the becoming
Something more, something stronger;
It's the pushing through
And the pressing forward,
It's standing against the sweeping storms
And enduring the gut-wrenching
Turns in the weather,
And pulling ourselves back up
When everything around us
Seems to pound us down.
This is the living.
