Black and White

I've always been amazed by the amount of times crows appear in literature from across the world. And not just in literature, but in other works of art, too. Songs, paintings, photography.

Sort of petroglyphs. Symbolizing just what is the subject of this short poem, written after reading a poem by Joy Harjo dealing with crows:


Earnestness
This morning the question gleams with particles of sun. There's crying; there's laguhter. What do you make of it?
--Joy Harjo


You see the black-limbed tree caught across
broad harvest moon dotted full of crows,
their calls like dry barks in dark air.

Then there's Sara's painting, all air & wax-rendered
sky, half-buried crows
dance beneath breadth of surface.

You hear the poet's voice free itself
from the radio in bright stars; extol
the virtue of crows, their black-clad
parson seriousness alert against snow-choked hills

You see Native American song
comparing crows and death like arrows to the heart
and the nature of the universe--

But like notes on a page of Chinese writing,
the melody escapes you;

Dim crows get caught at the back of your throat.