Blood Feathers

Strip away the murder and call them a counsel;

My winged friends have been kind to me

I find blood-feathers scattered underfoot,

They’ve fallen onto our paths

They carpet the way forward

Look! I scream, nobody hears

They’re consumed by vulgar shiny things

Look! I beg, but they’ve forgotten how to listen

When She speaks.

What will it take for us to reconcile?

What disaster, what catastrophe?

I wear those blood-feathers in my hair, perhaps they’ll see

I bang my drum, perhaps they’ll listen

I write, I write, my audience grows slowly

One at a time repays the debt

Clear it, for our children’s children

Perhaps crows will sing eventually