The Raven poem: The Raven’s Whisper

 The Raven’s Whisper


In the shadowed woods where silence dwells,


Beneath the moonlight, casting spells,
A raven sat on a twisted tree,
A sentinel of dark mystery.


Its feathers shimmered, black as night,
Reflecting stars with ghostly light.
Its eyes, like embers, burned so deep,
Guarding secrets it vowed to keep.


Within the village, tales were told,
Of the raven wise, both young and old.
They whispered it spoke to those in pain,
Guiding souls through loss and gain.


One fateful night, young Mara wept,
Her heart was shattered, her promises kept.
Her love had gone, the war had claimed,
Leaving her lost, her spirit tamed.


She wandered the woods, her tears a stream,


Hoping to find solace in a dream.
The raven watched with a knowing stare,
Its presence heavy in the night’s cold air.


It cawed aloud, a haunting sound,
That echoed through the trees around.
Mara froze, her breath held tight,
As the raven descended in the pale moonlight.


“Why do you cry, child of the earth?”
Its voice, both harsh and full of mirth.
Mara trembled but found her voice,
“I’ve lost my love, I’ve lost my choice.”


The raven nodded, its gaze so keen,
“I’ve seen such sorrow, I know what it means.


But listen well, for the night is wise,
Pain gives way, and love never dies.”


Mara frowned, her heart still torn,
“How can love endure when it’s forlorn?”
The raven flapped its wings of black,
Its voice like thunder, steady and exact.


“Love is not bound by mortal chains,
It dwells within, through joy and pain.
Your love may be gone, but his essence stays,


In the heart that remembers, in the soul that prays.”


The raven then plucked a feather so fine,
And dropped it in Mara’s hands to define.
“This feather is a token, a link to your past,
But also a key to make your sorrow not last.”


Mara held the feather, its weight so slight,
Yet it filled her heart with a strange new light.


The raven cawed once more and rose,
Disappearing into the night’s quiet prose.


Days turned to weeks, and seasons passed,
But Mara found peace that seemed to last.
She kept the feather, close to her heart,
A symbol of love and a brand-new start.


The villagers spoke of Mara’s grace,
The light returned to her gentle face.
And though her love had gone away,
She lived for the memory, day by day.


The raven watched from its ancient tree,
Content in its role, its silent decree.
For the wisdom it shared, the truths it gave,
Were gifts from a soul both fierce and brave.


In the woods where shadows play,
The raven whispers to this day.
To those who wander, lost and torn,
It brings the hope of love reborn.


And so, the tale of the raven stands,
A guide for hearts, across the lands.
Its voice a song, its feather a key,
To the endless power of memory.


The raven’s whisper, soft yet strong,
Reminds us all where we belong.
For love, though fleeting, leaves its trace,
In the heart that endures, in its sacred space.


#TheRaven #Poetry #LoveAndLoss #HealingJourney #WisdomAndHope #NatureTales #MysticalStory #MoonlitForest #GriefAndRecovery #SoulfulPoem

Location: United States

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