Voices in My Head | Remembering Those We’ve Lost

Beyond the Veil

A Free Verse Poem — Courage to Face the Unknown

I pulled into the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires. A crow was perched on the front lawn, its sleek black body a stark contrast to the parched grass. The bird didn’t flinch as I trudged towards the house, its paint peeling, porch creaking under my weight. The screen door hung slack in its frame, ripped at the hinges.

Inside, dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight spearing through the grime-coated pane. Empty picture frames hung crooked on the wall, smiles frozen in time. I sank onto the threadbare sofa, my coat a flimsy shield against the chill that seeped from the walls. The crow hopped onto the windowsill, its obsidian eyes reflecting the emptiness within.

Head curiously cocked, the stubborn carrion began to squawk, a harsh-rasping sound that seemed to carry the weight of time, a cryptic message from the world beyond. My heart stung, a raw wound exposed. “Fly away,” I croaked, my voice hoarse. “There’s nothing here for you, or for me.” The creature hopped off, spread its wings, and soared away.

Each day, it returned, a feathered metronome keeping time with the ache in my chest. Though unfamiliar, its language was a tome of unspoken sorrows forged in loss, and each beat a test. It dipped and swayed in a somber dance. And I became entranced, a captive audience to its display, yearning to bridge the chasm that separated us.

Years have passed, and the gulf of sorrow still seems insurmountable. My father’s voice, once a pillar of strength, was now a faint echo in the halls of memory. Yet, determined I am to push through the sadness and the anguish. The crow’s wings whisper a promise, a flicker of defiance against the encroaching darkness, a spark of courage to face the unknown.

This poem was born from a dream my brother had after our father’s passing. In it, a crow became his daily visitor, its attempts at communication leaving him with the haunting sense that it was our father reaching out from beyond the grave. Our father passed away three years ago, and finishing the poem has taken as much time. For those who have lost a loved one, may you find the courage to face each dawn with the promise of a bright tomorrow.

As always, a huge THANK YOU for taking the time to read my poem. Without you, my voice would be a whisper floating in the air.