They are the only ones that look at me.
I’m the only one that looks at them.
Two ugly crows with dull black feathers
and watchful eyes. Two who don’t watch,
but look deeply at me.
Two patient crows,
never leaving my yard.
From my room, I see them there,
but no one else really cares.
Their speech is in their eyes.
They listen intently with those eyes.
They watch me and watch my family
and they grab the frozen ground with their talons
and never quit their watching. This is how they heal.
Let one forget their reason for being,
they’d fly away, and find another child to watch.
Heal, heal, heal they say while I look at them.
They know.
When I am too sad
and too ugly
to keep healing,
when my eyes become
as dull and listless as their feathers,
it is then their eyes speak loudest.
When my eyes almost fall silent.
Two who let out a mighty caw.
Two who watch and do not forget to watch.
Two whose only reason is to watch and listen.