You’re not my old man
my friend, did you misunderstand;
you are my partner, my lover,
my partial creator but out of magic,
you make a haven from something tragic;
perhaps I exaggerate for the sake of a rhyme sometimes
and I know you can never be mine all mine
but you make me laugh and smile
and you are everything divine.
You have a beautiful mind
a spirit that soars like the raven
and a song as greatful. It’s one of the most
deep-ringing vibrations of the woods around me,
a sound that thrills me, a sound that makes everything
It’s like a perfect counter-beat.
Sometimes we miss each other in the midst of
but I think of you always,
for you’re like a jewel;
a treasure I selfishly
want to pocket and keep.
Image: First Nations 11.5” Raven Panel by Harvey John, Nuu-chah-nulth, available at Etsy.com (not an affiliate link) found via post-write art search for “first nations the raven”
Partly inspired by the Raven Tales of the First Nations; the metaphorically true-to-life and deeply perceptive creation stories of the people whose original land that, as a southwest Canadian descendent of European immigrant ancestors (however peaceful and from whatever possibly humble and oppressed origins), I feel ashamed, honoured and grateful to be co-inhabiting.