There’s a bird that nests inside you
Sleeping underneath your skin.
~ Adam Duritz
A scarce rain slapped the side of the hospital in sheets.
He sat, rooted in a chair near a window.
His spirit eroded as he imagined
cells from his loins scraped from his
girlfriend’s womb like vegetation detached at its roots.
His first child killed, like one sorry weed.
Afterward, she had no strength for talking.
Three crows perched on her Jeep’s
roll bar and she shooed them
away, as the last of his
mercy wove a path into oncoming darkness
then shattered glass against her heart.
Those three crows came up each time
his fist revisited her face.
“You shooed off
*punch*
our family
*punch*
sure as you shooed off
*punch*
them crows.”
She took it until her own soul shattered,
then left him, trying to piece together
the jagged shards of everything she once was.
Brenda Warren 2013
undercaws 
I’m with Cosmo.
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OH!
Goodness. This sucked every ounce of breath out of me, Brenda. Brilliantly done. First of all, Counting Crows (especially the August and Everything After album) is an absolute favorite of mine. I almost quoted them, as well (something from Raining in Baltimore.) I recognized your quote, immediately. Second, for some reason these words evoked an image of three for me, too. I wonder why? How intriguing.
Your imagery here is stunning, right down to the very black nature of crows. Just so well done.
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Barbarous and an inhuman act!! My heart kept sinking as I read and now stays there!! Shattered!! Why does the woman have to bear the brunt of all misery??
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This was a sad one for sure. I’m glad she left and put things back together again…
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Ironic how the father had no use for the baby, but drove her to the clinic for the abortion. Then, later, he blames her for “shooing away” the baby… having had an abortion in my early years, I can say no woman chooses it unless it’s a last resort, and in the end, I think she chose rightly. The child would always have to have contact with a physically abusive dad… it’s the American Way, right there. This shattered me like the glass, like her heart. So revealing, Brenda. Thank you so much. Amy
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This is so replete with the pain of loss, of life and love and trust, as well. It hurts to read it and your writing evokes that “punch in the gut” response.
Thank you for your kind comment on mine, and I’m grateful I found Whirl, too. I’ve seen it forever, but because I’m so involved in dVerse and my own writing, just never checked it out. Time to venture out, I suppose, and meet some new blogging friends. I’ll be here when I can.
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Brutal? yes. Sad? beyond that. Real? very much so. Vivid? yes, felt each one of those punches. Triggered old memories and yet, it is beautifully written with a keen sense of awareness and the utmost sensitivity. Thank you Brenda,
Elizabeth
http://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/
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Brutal is my word too. Amazing write with the words. All too true for many. I hope this isn’t you.
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Brenda, I am so glad to see you made it to the whirl. I was wondering what happened to you.This poem hits a person in the gut. Sad and ever so vivid. Really excellent writing, my friend.
Pamela
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This is very sad, Brenda. Heartbreaking situation well penned.
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Ouch. Poor people. Poor crows. They do get a bad press.
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oh dang…this is so terrible and happens way too often… loss can change a person completely and leave only desperation…so sad…so vividly penned…
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dang. brutal. vivid. all too real and all too sad.
the loss of a child, of the hope—can lead to a bit of madness
but no one should have to he beaten, blamed, hurt…
my eyes are a bit blurry now w tears.
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I’ve read this three times and it is more powerful with each reading. It broke my heart too! This is wonderful writing, shattering, yet hopeful. Keep writing!!!!
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