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RAVENHAIR - by Washington D.C. poet Juliette Flores

The midnight curtain drew nigh,
My mind escaped to slumberd sigh,
I dreamt of a rapturous child, meek and mild,
Who grew up only to cry.
And, the dream waltzed its vision,
From my slumber unfold
Deep behind doe eyes, brewed secrets inside--
--and many a tale untold..
Mysterious maid, so dark yet fair,
and they called her, "Ravenhair".

Many a year had gone by and by,
The young lass had seen the tear,
Swells of pupiled shores of her mother's eyes,
Always to ebb-tide in cheer...
Her mother had tarried beyond the brae,
and a zepher stole her dreams away,
She told the girl of ebony curl,
in her bed asleep where she lay:

"When your sadness mounts it's steed,
When your heart not cries, but bleeds,
Thy ebbing somber will echo it's grave,
When it's tears are cried to a wave...
Remember for me, my precious dear,
Remember to always emerge from tear."

In the drifts of sleep, Ravenhair emerged,
While an archangel had crept,
The winged evil possessed and converged,
Her mother's last breath while she slept.
And rays of silver bolts iced the air,
and awoke the sleeping Ravenhair,
To a bitter wintery cold--
Only to find the chilling bite
of that violet shadowed night,
Had taken away her mother's soul!

Her tears pounded like waves,
along the shores of Reasons To Be,
In the solace of shadow, her heart was saved,
and released to a tormented sea.
Lo, the stars reflected her tears,
T'was the sparkle above the brae,
The jagged drops from her eyes, awoke the voice
Far above the sea's swirling sway.
Her tears were calmed by a lunar beam,
Thus calmed the storm on her cheek,
Echoing words whirled to the ears of the girl,
The ghostly calm did speak:

"When your sadness mounts it's steed,
When your heart not cries but bleeds,
Thy ebbing somber will echo it's grave,
When its tears are cried to a wave..."

The stars hummed in quiet psalm,
At the moon's harmonic plea,
Under the celestial air, the lass named Ravenhair,
Cast herself into the sea!
To the moonlights hymn, the stars did sing,
In mid-air, the girl's words did ring:

"I, Ravenhair of the Brae!
Give my heart to a wave!
To wash my sorrow, and by the morrow,
My pain to drift away!
O' Mother in Heaven, my voice please hear--
To the sea--the salt of my tear!"

A trophy claimed by crested wave,
The prize of an earthy breath.
Her body now sleeps in a watery grave,
But her spirit escaped from death...
T'was the dawning of the night's yawning,
an enchanted wave did bring,
From the womb of the sea, her spirit flew free,
A midnight seraph on a wing!
Berthed from a capping sea-foamed list,
Spread blackened wings of amethyst!
Feathers unfurled from every ebony curl,
And, the North Star twinkled a kiss!

And lo, a blackbird passes its life,
On a wing and a mother's prayer,
Joyous in sorrow and all strife,
Laughs the girl once knoown as, "Ravenhair"...
...Many a tear had seen my eyes,
T'is the surf of the sounding sea!
...and lo, of this dream I realized...
...the child, Ravenhair, was me...

copyright 1999 Juliette Flores
May not be reproduced or performed without written permission from the author.

RAVENHAIR was performed for the first time in public in front of a studio audience of 300 and an internet audience of 100,000 in August 2000 in Washington, D. C. at the Hyatt Grand Hotel. The poem was one of ten finalists chosen by the public in the largest online/performance poetry competition in the U. S. attracting 3000 poets world wide.