Black Raven In The Trees
The raven


A fellow fibromyalgia member sent me this poem. It rings so true to our experiences and it is a wonderful piece. So much so I asked him if I could share it with you.

In the midnight hour…


When the midnight hour has wane; when the witching hour is nigh;

The inky well of blackness creeps through my sinews welt the eyes to cry.

I hear upon my window a scratching; a pecking; a noise will not go away;

I pray God will send his angels to stop it; I cry for the break of day.

The noise I dread to discover, the noise my heart stops to hear.

A raven has perched upon my window; his black eyes turns in to peer.

With my body aching and twisting; my skin drenched, sticky with sweat;

I go to the window to confront this creature; I have no idea of the threat.

I wonder why this wretched bird comes to haunt me, in the thick and darkest night;

Why does he bring such sorrow and pain? Why my mind terrors to fright?

He brings things I dread; pain; things I fear; he brings past failures and all my sin;

He does not let up for a breath; he flies into my heart deep within.

He starts to claw and devour; in the holes the blackness slithers, seeping inside;

He treats my heart like carrion; he feasts my insides betide.

Why must this raven come to torture me? Why can’t I fight him to go?

Why does the pain want to consume me? Why must heaven only know?

The night tolls long and arduous; molasses the second hand ticks;

My body is frozen with bewilderment; I cannot believe I am really this sick.

Raven, leave me, and let me alone, your ravage rips me til I am sore;

The devil just looks with a dead pan face and screams to me, “Nevermore!

By Sean Hovater

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