An ancient I is sitting on the fence with a blue-feathered raven,Frances Fay
listening to the wind whistling among the oaks--mothers crying for long-lost babies:
They ask that we return and lean against their upright bodies;
they will shelter us from the fear that festers in our minds.
They ask that we free the voices in our throats and hearts,
that we may listen to ourselves and one another.
And as they plead for our attention, sisters and brothers,
the blue-feathered raven lingers on, still and mysterious like a Sphinx.
They are waiting for us.