The Raven’s Call

poe1Grave Memorial of Edgar Allan Poe, Baltimore
(Please click on the mp3 file below to read along with my voice)

Twas happenstance that I should stumble upon the repository of Sir Edgar Allan Poe most recently.  And dare I say that the Raven’s shadow appeared before me.  The morning air seemed to stand still under sheets of silence.  Little but the overnight dew remained within the earth’s slightly chilly breath and I wondered a moment if time itself had not become as still as I.   The red brick steeple shot straight into a motionless sky, as though frozen within its blue swallow.  And nary a blown leaf nor expedient beetle could be seen across the world’s velveteen scape.  An eeriness fell upon me, as the quiet enveloped my very soul.  Or had something else surrounded me as I stood outside the gates of Poe’s repose?  Perhaps I may never know, but I shall evermore suspect that Edgar himself was standing before me with another great tale for  any passerby.  And unfortunate me, with no ear to hear.

I wonder what Mr. Edgar would have to say to this curious soul today?

Is that the gentle tap, tapping of a visitor upon my threshold?  Lenore, I should hope, but hope stays nevermore.  But do stay, visitor, even if not to show yourself but the black of night.  For in that night, that black spirit, are my tales, now gone evermore, and my withered soul longs only to let them live.  Though I am long away from the gentleness of the sun you feel upon your skin or the anticipation of breeze that I shall keep myself during your stay, it is with the greatest honor I accept your bereavement, friend, for the lone purpose only to assuage your heart.  For this little time, in this little place,  my heart is yours.

From the Author:

Recently I was blessed with the opportunity to visit the city of Baltimore, once temporary home – and now permanent home – to Mr. Edgar Allan Poe.  My traveling companion, teenage daughter Chelsea, seemed to be engrossed in her deep sleep and dreams, as teenage girls tend to do, so I slipped away early this past Saturday morn to visit Mr. Poe’s Gravesight and memorial alone.

So early was I that even the gates to the cemetery had not been unlocked yet, so I busied myself admiring the beautiful red-brick church built on premise in 1855, six years after Poe’s original burial there.   The serenity of the morning was unlike any other I have ever known, and the quant nature of this church and cemetery grounds were just simply overwhelming.   I rather enjoy “me-time” a great deal, though as a general rule mostly require someone to be attentive to my rantings and over-indulgent quips…..  Until this day my favorite “me-time” had been as a boy, passing early Sunday morning papers in my hometown on cold, dark, snowy mornings.  It was so serene.  And the snow tends to muffle all sound.  Have you ever been somewhere completely quiet?  But now, after having visited Mr. Poe, I think this is my favorite me-time ever.  I’m still amazed that at the end of May, even with all of the trees present, there was not a single bird chirping that morning.

A wonderful place to visit and I hope you’ll have the opportunity to see this someday.  It is well worth it…..

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Ye who read are still among the living, but I who write shall have long since gone my way into the region of the shadows.

“Shadow”, Edgar Allan Poe

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© 2013 John Richter

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About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

One response to “The Raven’s Call

  • claudia

    nice on enjoying some quiet me-time and in such a historical place as well…it would be cool to be able to talk to some of the old masters and it would really be interesting to hear what they had to tell us and also about the time that we’re living in… an enjoyable read

    p.s. wrote you an email…

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