Monday, June 6, 2011


In the midst of a
black and white land
of burnt skeletons of homes
a raven sits
on a blackened tree limb
looking down
at the ground
at a mass of black feathers
beneath puffy white clouds
in an azure sky
and in the stillness
of that moment
my soul echoes
the blackbird's 
silent cry


  1. The imagery you invoke in this poem is so stirring and makes me sad too that all those homes are gone I want to cry to at the destruction.
    Come check out my poem on LM Stull's blog today
    Thanks Henry this was beautiful

  2. Oh, I like this poem - very emotional and beautifully written!

  3. A beautiful poem...I can feel the ache...great writing. Di