Raven who stole the light from grandfathers grasp, you could have asked, but instead you chose to trick us.
Corvo, in a fairy tale stricken dead upon an ivory atone, a story of a brothers love and of perils vast that he must face.
Rave, seven in all, cursed to bird form, on the day their sister was born.
Tales of woe, heartache and death plague this glossy onyx bird of flight.

Hrafi, looking into your eyes, see intellegence peeking through.
Korp, are we mistaken about your true identity?
Corbeau, you proudly watched over Dieties?
Raaf, is it true you can lead men to deer?
Corbie, you have a dark history.
Cuervo, your history also light.
Raven you are a mystery.

Copyright Corbie Sinclair 2011

This is my entry for One Shot Wednesday. It’s a poem about the Raven. There are three separate stories in the beginning and each phrase that starts with Raven is a translation in another language. Please join me in reading some wonderful works from fantastic writers at: http://www.onestoppoetry.com. One Shot Wednesday starts at 5pm EST.