I look for your messengers
–your Thoughts and your Memories–
for seeing them lets me know
You are still watching over me.
You leave me to walk my own Wyrd.
That does not mean you are uninterested
in what happens to me,
but you have never been my babysitter,
nor my parent, nor my watchman.
I am not supposed to lean on you,
constantly begging, making demands;
from time to time I talk to you,
and some of those times, I lament problems
I may have encountered,
but I have never asked you to wave a magic wand
and make everything magically all better.
This is why it is so heartening to see them there,
perched on that line every day as I
walk home from work;
just two ravens, no more, no less,
and I think always the same two,
peering down at me in curiosity,
and then flying off to report what they have seen
once I have passed.
All Their Voices 