We were a god and goddess bird of old,
Our divinity was recognised;
We would inspire and make your blood run cold.
Your blood-lust later blamed on us – such lies!
Your double standard came as no surprise.
Our corpse-perch eating was effect not cause.
A distance grew between us – not the sky’s;
We had the wildlife while you did your chores,
We’d come back now and then to dine out on your wars!
From nest-site cliffs of mountains, fells and coasts,
We shadow you and gaze upon your ruin
And circle round you, feathered coal-black ghosts.
Noticeable, we charm our way back in;
Despite yourself, we get beneath your skin.
Fatal, not sweet, our nature’s dark attraction
And some may sense that though we’re hardly kin,
Familiar spirits conjure your attention;
We totem-tall dark strangers raise imagination.
Open your wooden head you cuckoo-clock!
Our beaks will pull you from those double doors,
Now see the wilderness within unlock;
We carry your heart away with carrion claws,
Escape to once and future tree-filled moors,
Unclots the sap now rushing round your mind
And distant, remnant memory restores:
The raven in your inner world’s enshrined,
Ever in outer life, our destinies entwined!
The Rune-Gild Europe