Beauty of Origin

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watching me, eyes bring black, gleaming
Crow read my inner shadows

I begged her for help. . .

Crow came, intent, fearless. Gentle
into that passage
where I had first tasted of life, my mother’s milk,
and with my first breath
had heard the old sour sound of her weeping

As bidden,
Crow saw into me
she came for my soul
that dark space where truth waited
she opened her beak
darted down inside my throat
grabbed me by my navel
turned me inside out
dropped me into her womb

pulled me toward her heart

As I fell into her darkness I heard Crow laugh
she broke my old, shuddering rhythm

retching, I strove with her and she with me
her power pulsed
my skin sagged
my bones broke

she pinned me to her gaze
held me in her secretive glow
devoured my darkness

Have you listened lately, to Crow?
she speaks clearly, but
do you hear her?

Crow’s laughter broke my innocence
while, at the moment of birth I lay, dying
my beauty of origin shattered
I was lost from the beginning

Crow knew what I sought –
she brought with her
my own new light, my honor, my birthright.

I found myself lingering within her eye,
within that everlasting shine

Darlene Witte
Darlene Witte

Professor of Education, (retired) at Johnson State College in Vermont leads the Green Mountain Writers' Poetry & Performance workshop that meets on Zoom each month on the 1st and 3rd Tuesdays at 7 PM ET. Find out more at

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