The smartest man I know is dying –
cancer, spreading to his bones
and cruelly, to his brain.
“Come look back here,” he says when I visit.
“They knew even before I did.”
Six ravens walk – stately, slow, with purpose –
across his yard, an avian funeral cortège.
“They’ve been here since spring,” he adds.
He points to a corner near the fence.
“That one has a broken wing.
Got it robbing a blue jay’s nest.
Shouldn’t mess with jays, I told her.”
He feeds her raw chicken and steak but says he knows
that soon she’ll ask for death, and he’ll oblige.
“They won’t do the same for me,” he says.
“Fucking do-gooders.”
I don’t know what to say.
“When she’s gone, her fellows will have
a feast of her carcass,” he says without malice,
“just as they will with mine.”
I try to protest, but I know it’s true.
Already there’s talk that his research is passé.
At lunch, I see my own reflection in a soup spoon.
– Sarah Russell
First published in Misfit Magazine
Watercolor by Sarah Yeoman, SarahYeoman.com
P.S. New prompts are up on the Prompts page.
Sarah Russell Poetry 
Poe would be proud: a lovely and chilling poem. Alarie
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And based on a true incident. Thanks, Alarie.
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already there’s talk his research is passé. What a line. Wow
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Thought you’d resonate with the plight of the professor emeritus.
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Reblogged this on Stevie's Law and commented:
Wonderful poem by my friend, Sarah Russell.
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wow, this is intense and even more intense to find out it is true. i had a raven lying dead on my front sidewalk leading to my front door that my sister and i came upon after returning from my mother’s death bed.
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Whoa! Enough to give you chills. This great guy thought it was appropriate. He just wondered how they knew.
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The raven has always been a sign of death. My neighbor used to dream about them and someone always passed. Your writing is exquisite and chilling at the same time!
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Thanks so much, Dorinda.
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You’re very welcome, Sarah 😊
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Wow! What a beautiful and haunting write, Sarah. You bowled me over. Love it. Mind if I reblog?
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Thanks, Ryan. I’d love to have you reblog it!
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Reblogged this on days of stone and commented:
A hauntingly beautiful poem from my talented friend, Sarah Russell.
One small request – please leave comments and likes directly on Sarah’s blog.
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Wow, this is powerful!
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Thanks so much!
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Wow. This is powerful, ominous, brutally honest. As a wise old man told me, ain’t none of us getting out of here alive.
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Thanks, Barry. That would be this guy’s sentiment as well. Learned a lesson in acceptance from him. Ever the teacher.
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Wonderful poem, Sarah, so rich in detail and full of acceptance of human mortality. Glad I followed the link from Ryan’s blog!
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Thanks, Spaceman. Traveled over to your universe too. Each-uisges and wolves chasing damsels. Perverse and quite wonderful when the lasses turn on them. I’m officially a fan!
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One of the finest concluding lines to a poem I’ve read in a very long time (and the rest of it is pretty amazing too!).
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Thanks, Robert. I’ve had a lot of questions about that line. Haven’t answered them though.
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Better that way!
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Touching and heart-breaking all at once. Well done, Sarah.
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Thanks, Gerry.
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That is a good poem! But am I funny in not finding it chilling? The professor got it right, it seems to me. There’s nothing chilling in death. It just is. The end phrase is premonitory, it’s the final destination for all of us.
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Thanks, Jane. I have to say when this happened, I found the ravens taking up residence in his backyard a little eerie, but he was so matter-of-fact about it that it seemed commonplace after I had visited with him awhile.
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Beautiful words. At my advanced age, I am always looking for signs of death when I should be looking for signs of life.
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Jerry, I’m at that age too. I see it not as something bad, but as learning to accept what’s coming closer. And I try to see it as the man in “Ravens” does — matter-of-fact, without negativity. It’s the negativity that makes people mean and/or depressed in old age.
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