Very nice black bird in the tree today, said my father’s mother, as she said her grace. His eyes are blue with magic, they burn with foreign fire, they circle me with six points, interpret my desire. That Turdus merula, is darker than the night delayed, detached yet from the living he sees with other sight. Said my father’s mother if I breath by right, a son I will be given, I’ll birth him in the night. That hew upon the high ground that looks just like a star, will call upon the dark bird to name this baby knight. His sign shall be a jackdaw, on spirit he shall grow, divisible by wonder, his marvel cherished bright, a colorless of ageless, and a temperate on the right, a blackbird of the sages, determined by his sight. Ten and twenty Grackles have summoned while he plays, they fly in awe majestic, he turns they float away.
The Crow he called out early, the day the world stood still, the day my father’s mother said name him as you will. Whatever is his worry the Rook will be his guide, he’ll fly him into battle, and he’ll watch him when he dies. In the highland thistles, a blackbird looks your way, his eyes are blue with magic, and he will not look away. Chasten now your story, believe your wisdom done, In Merle you have your glory, a blackbird is your son.
In Merle you have a name ship that’s shadowed by the sun. A Rook that flew between names, from father down to son. There cries within a namesake a search for why or when, to challenge all your answers to settle all your sins. If I dream of Ravens that lead me to my home, have I found a haven will I no more roam. However seems my journey, this name that I’m assigned, like he who went before me, I will not know but why. Ten and twenty Grackles have summoned while I write, they fly in awe majestic, I turn they float away.
My Father’s middle name was Merle, as is mine. It means Blackbird. – 06.27.2014 – דָּנִיֵּאל