When you hear the Old Church bell toll and a sad wail echo through the forest, do not approach. For the Weeping Raven is there, grieving for all she lost.
Some say that in life, she was mother to a soldier that never came home. Grief did not allow her to leave our world, and she now cries as she waits for him.
Others claim she was a local healer, accused of witchcraft and killed in front of the Old Church where she now perches.
She is the Patron Saint of Melancholy and Loneliness. It is best not to disturb her, lest you want to join her in sorrow.
An inscription on the front wall of the Old Church: “Oh, Raven, take my grief with you so that I may not feel it. Let your tears wash over me.”
The Weeping Raven’s wail fills your ears.
In her eyes, you see the remains of a sorrowful memory.
I saw her that night, waiting as ever.
A great dark void flying over the Old Church, her tears dripping around her like the stars in the night.
Her scream sang of loss, of the melancholy of an eternal wait.
I said my prayer and left her to mourn.
© Eduardo Valdés-Hevia