A Raven Flies

by Barbara Pease

A raven flies across wintry skies. The cold wind blows echoing cries.

People are shivering. The power is gone. Trains are full, and leaving town.

I sit at home. Dreams still haunt me. In fear I search the darkening skies.

Sirens sound. Men wait for guns. Brilliant flashes blind our eyes.

A father cries saying goodbye to a little daughter as he reaches down. 

A raven flies across wintry skies. The cold wind blows echoing cries.

A courageous leader stands his ground, in a call for weapons, not a ride.

Ordinary people learn to shoot. A brave army slows an invader down.

I sit at home. Dreams still haunt me. In fear I search the darkening skies.

Raisa said each day during the blockade six thousand people died

in the winter of '42. The young, fill the streets, ashamed, courage found.

A raven flies across wintry skies. The cold wind blows echoing cries.

Why war? Your nation knows such suffering. Can you not hear their cries?

They ate glue to live. There was no food. A child ate peels she found.

I sit at home. Dreams still haunt me. In fear I search the darkening skies.

A leader wandering lost, ambitions destroying him, in dark lit fires.

Such passion brings its own destruction, as he walks along this ground.

A raven flies across wintry skies. The cold wind blows echoing cries.

I sit at home. Dreams still haunt me. In fear I search the darkening skies.