The Wanderer

I was a discarded youth and I knew it.

Into my aching bones I knew I was unwanted. Flawed. Unlovable.

One night I stepped into the forbidden woods, seeking passageway into the final void.

In a moonlit clearing I found myself at the centre of a crow funeral.

I looked up.

Upon every branch on every tree extending from every inch of soil sat a jet black crow.

Silent. Watching. Witnessing.

The midnight air whispered.

In the breathless space where one moment becomes two I realized that I’m parrt of something much larger than myself.

Then softly uttered two words: Thank you.

- James Essex