The Crow and I

I lie on the ground and set down all my heaviness. The weariness of the days I have lived, and the regret of the road I chose poorly. A single crow looks quietly down at me. In its black eyes there is no judgment, no question. The world keeps asking who I am, but the crow does not ask. It only stays nearby, so that I am not alone. After looking for a long time, I begin to resemble the crow, and the crow begins to resemble me. On the same earth, we look at the same sky. Even as the sun goes down, my heart grows a little lighter. To know each other's solitude without speaking. That is the conversation between the crow and me.

To stay beside someone without asking questions. For people, too, that is the hardest thing, and the thing we are most grateful for.