As the Crow Flies

I will sit upon my throne in this rousing coliseum of nature’s curses

Oceans of leaves applaud me from the cheap seats

A pious crow calls to his flock a prayer of remembrance

The choir sings

-Laura Chowanski

"My Palace, My Prison"

"As the Crow Flies"

Applique Fabric Art by Laura Chowanski of Xcentric Designs

Look Closer and you will see where the crow flies and why he cries out.

PAST

PRESENT

FUTURE?

This is where I keep "As the Crow Flies" on my bedroom wall.

The fan my son brought me back from China.

On the left I have a CROW mirror I bought from an Artisan a while ago - my Grandmother's prayer drape over it.

The plate on the mirror says:

Wherever crows are

there is Magic

The Mother-of-pearl inlay letter opener on the right my husband's Grandfather brought back from Korea.

The watercolor of Rottenburg, Germany, on the left I bought from a Polish woman near a bridge within the walled city.

(Girl trip with my Mom when My brother worked in Munchen.)

On the right is a plate etching of King Kong climbing the Empire State Building I bought at a craft fair near Columbus Circle in NYC.

(My husband proposed to me at the top of the Empire State Building)

The picture on the bottom is my son doing a karate kick in front of a large Buddha on the top of a mountain in China.

Dark Poetry

My Palace: My Prison

Build me a chair in the woods, dear one.

Surround me with the fresh scent of life and death floating on a summer’s breeze

Leaving a slight chill beneath my nose long after leaving me.

An old stump knarred with dancing skulls

loved by lush green moss set in a ring of granite stones

watched by towering guards

on a melancholy carpet of dead pine.

I will dwell lovingly with intimate castaways from the canopy above

Composing a sonnet in honor of the inchworm

Floating amid leafy green curtains

Tiny neon seahorse when he climbs.

I will sit upon my throne in this rousing coliseum of nature’s curses

Oceans of leaves applaud me from the cheap seats

A pious crow calls to his flock a prayer of remembrance

The choir sings

Spotlights shine through holes blasted in the ceiling

Providing me a small measure of light

When the wind is furious

Twinkling tears scatter about the forest floor in waves.

In the chilly breath of fall

Charred remains of death’s victory slap my face

A sad dance of refugees start their pilgrimage

To find comfort on a bed of their ancestors.

The forest’s curtain withers to ash

Decomposing shades of brown grow over the youthful vibrant greens

Inviting the first frost

A crusty blanket of snow to silence the crushing sorrow beneath my boot.

Ice bites my face

Frozen water drips from mournful eyes

A smoky exhale of life yet to live.

When it’s time for me to go, dear ones,

Cut me a path that is narrow and straight

Shade to darkness

along a trail of tears

Let the moon guide me to my resting place

In sorrow

Dreaming about the chair you built me in the woods.