Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Death Wings

Death Wings

She lay in bed,
Her face pale as the sickness seized her body.

And the wings beat against the wind.

The feverish tremors left her body crying out:
Save me.

Black wings,
Dark as night
Crusted over with dried blood.

Tears rolled down the faces that surrounded the woman
Hopeless, distant.

The eternity of heaven and hell
Vacant and silent,
Except for the steady repercussion of the midnight wings.

They all knew it was the end.
The crow called defiantly, betraying his hiding place
In the large weeping willow.

He carries death on his shoulders
She closes her eyes,
Her whimpering silenced.

Her daughter wails,
The faces fall.

And the wings beat against the wind.
His next victim's death inevitable.

2 comments:

Kitty said...

Gosh thats good

Heather said...

It's amazing, Sara, no matter what you say otherwise. It's a very powerful poem.