Letting the mystery flap through us…


A poem by Prartho – Sleeping with the Ravens.


Sleeping with the Ravens

All night they flapped through me
on blue-black wings. By morning
every hair on my head had gone white

and was risen. Like wayward roots
they burrowed into the firmament.

I woke with that old raw
hunger… ravenous.

Not for starlight
but for what recedes—
the bottomless yearning

to walk with the ancient novitiates
who carry white fire
in their cupped dark hands.


Prartho is a poet, artist and designer. She is Marin County’s fourth Poet Laureate (California) – prarthosereno.com

Photo by Niklas Veenhuis on Unsplash

Comments are closed.