BLACK

I am the raven that spoke, “Nevermore,”
whose form cast its dark shadow on the floor,
and through whom words of lost love did pour--
the messenger of death and lost souls
executing its grim eternal patrols.

I am the vestments of the witch stirring her potion,
dark as the lightless depths of the deepest ocean,
as she works to set her vile spells in motion
with the moon and stars eclipsed in a shroud
of dark, menacing thundercloud.

I am the coat that Johnny Cash wore
as he sang about the oppressed, the poor,
and the many thousands who died in war,
pitch-dark as the shaft of a coal mine
beyond the reach of a single ray of sunshine.