Beyond the Veil

I pulled into the driveway, gravel
crunching under the tires. A crow
was perched on the front lawn, its sleek
black body a stark contrast to the parched
grass. The bird didn’t flinch as I trudged
towards the house, its paint peeling, porch
creaking under my weight. The screen door
hung slack in its frame, ripped at the hinges.

Inside, dust motes danced in the single shaft
of sunlight spearing through the grime-coated
pane. Empty picture frames hung crooked
on the wall, smiles frozen in time. I sank
onto the threadbare sofa, my coat a flimsy
shield against the chill that seeped from
the walls. The crow hopped onto the windowsill,
its obsidian eyes reflecting the emptiness within.

Head curiously cocked, the stubborn carrion
began to squawk, a harsh-rasping sound
that seemed to carry the weight of time,
a cryptic message from the world beyond.
My heart stung, a raw wound exposed. “Fly
away,” I croaked, my voice hoarse. “There’s
nothing here for you, or for me.” The creature
hopped off, spread its wings, and soared away.

Each day, it returned, a feathered
metronome keeping time with the ache
in my chest. Though unfamiliar, its language
was a tome of unspoken sorrows forged in loss,
and each beat a test. It dipped and swayed
in a somber dance. And I became entranced,
a captive audience to its display, yearning
to bridge the chasm that separated us.

Years have passed, and the gulf of sorrow
still seems insurmountable. My father’s voice,
once a pillar of strength, was now a faint echo
in the halls of memory. Yet, determined I am
to push through the sadness and the anguish.
The crow’s wings whisper a promise, a flicker
of defiance against the encroaching darkness,
a spark of courage to face the unknown.