This, my 3rd trisect poem, is the second of four related poems that each connect with a powerful dream I had in 2001. The other three, in the order they were written, are “oak dream,” “markers,” and “oak touch.”
The dream itself is pretty well laid out in “markers.” Some of the experiences surrounding the dream are talked about in “oak touch.” This poem focuses specifically on the three raven representations that occur within the dream.
Three Ravens
Likeness
a shadow-figure bounces limb to limb
dropped from high within a lobe-leafed crown
to settle in sere blades of weedy grass
cast from a dreamtime archetype
with lifelike detailed lifelessness
the image shines absorbing light
motionless by roots that vanish deep
it stares face-up awaiting scrutiny
with all the passion of an obelisk
no hint of air disturbs its place
those steady strands that broke its fall
as if to catch a secret prize
Presence
concealed in part by leaf and limb
a single pair of talons scratch
against imperfect plates of bark
a shard of rough obsidian regards
the hidden topside of a sturdy branch
where unseen from the ground an icon lures
all that stirs the careful air
is feathered curiosity
that taps and probes a private find
shelled by billowed tufts of nimbus green
the living marker cocks desultory glances
working to unlock its mystery
Metamorphosis
human arms reach out to merge with wings
that beat and glide within a canyon formed
by sprawling concrete towers gray with age
human legs press back against the quills
that turn their flight down narrow lanes of stone
led by blindsight to a courtyard park
and here within there stands and spreads
the only living structure found
amidst this city lost to time
amid the dreamscapes of the mind
and in the shade of gaze and bough
one hand holds a figurine
that splits along its downy breast
where silver light shines from its depths
The three representations of the raven are as follows:
First, explored in segment three, was myself. In the dream I was part raven, part my normal human self. What made this especially intense is that I flew with those great raven wings from the outskirts of the city to its central park where the old oak grew.
Second, explored in segment two, was an actual raven, perched high in that same oak.
Third, explored in segment one, was a raven figurine, dropped by the raven from high within the massive old oak. Near the end of the dream, as I began to fly up into the branches of the oak to see what that raven was fiddling with, it nudged this undefined object over the edge of the branch it was on. I flew back down to investigate, and found it to be a raven figurine. As I studied it, in all its miniature feathered realism, its chest split open to reveal a light-emitting cross within.
