Something is happening to me—something big.  I cannot divulge what it is yet but I am posting this poem which addresses the notion of change and the power of dreams.  

It was first published in Referential Magazine.

Haunted

by Clare L Martin


I am kept by crows.
They beckon out of sleep,

calling come, come
be transformed.

Crow-by-crow
line up in dreams,

punctuating visions.
Such an omen inspires.

A crow told me:

Let me be a whorl of darkness—
Let me be a fist in the sun.

The crow on the wire
is a keeper of silence.

What a crow gathers
becomes soot and nothing more.

I am in the night. I am in it
as though it cloaks me–

I am winged
and feathered like the crow.

Sheer, yet impenetrable,
rising on wind.