Who is the Watcher? Where are they from?

I am a simple lad, a watcher from who knows where
Have the supposed heavens above sent me in God’s plight, as a messenger? 
I have no clue as to what I, a simple maiden, would have to share, 
It appears as if the world has screwed my mouth shut but maybe it is for the best
I’d imagine if I’d be able to speak I’d speak something foul, 
Sins spilling from my mouth flirtatious as water on a rather parched day. 
That would indeed not be holy but what makes anybody holy when human desire is vile
I know, I watch from above. 
Maybe I lived another life long ago
A simple bird with talons sharp 
An assassin’s knife soaring in mid flight
Perhaps I am a crow who has kept watch of the objects it holds so dear

A flight gone awry
The wind blows the other way 
A flight held by gravity with no escape.

I see the crows stand by in the sunset now
Tendrils of smoke arise 
I creep past each room holding the incense close to my chest
My fingertips stained black as I ward off the night
I have learned to cling to the spaces in between
They will walk past the figure hidden in plain sight,
As I light the night
They see a figure that has a terrible resting face,
Brooding in the woes of youth
Displeasing the eye of the beholder
Or is it the beholden 
whichever comes first at that moment.

I wonder now, what would happen if I took flight 
Would I still be trapped like a songbird in a cage 
Am I pleading with the almighty or is it people? 

I am a simple lad, a watcher from who knows where
I have not a clue about how I, a simple maiden could feel trapped
I simply open and close doors
I have no body or place

I am a magician’s kindred rabbit eating its grave
I disappear and reappear

The sea place to place in rivers and lakes
The wind becomes my companion until I am everybody, everything, everywhere.
I am soothed yet distressed waves
Crashing aganist the heavenly sands
As I return a night of broken glass. 

Yet, a watcher trapped?
A watcher that takes, destroys, and breaks
The maiden, the man
It can’t be. 
How can a watcher return glass?

I solely open and close doors
I am a simple doll with whom they will lay their book
A simple frame they hang their paintings, proudly against the wall
A simple breeze passing by as they lift their hands
I can’t do anything but watch, the mirror of our world
Yet, I am everything and anything



 

Nobody sees me, 
They will come find me
When they are distracted  
Distracted with petty plights of bloodshed 
They will speak to me, although I can’t speak back
People will die at the hands of their own
When they burn, shoot, rape; destroy
I will simply watch from above
I am a watcher after all

Yet, the centuries pass
I still find myself asking as the crows take flight 
As they steal, yet protect
Tendrils of smoke being all that is left 
The maiden I watched over long ago
Blood spills on the earth once more 
What makes anyone holy?
I am no divinity, just human, I suppose.

Process

I wrote this piece under the combination of being upset over the trend of weaponization of religion. I was upset over people using religion, and people’s faith as a justification for their terrible actions. I was so pissed that I got a headache and this piece came from that headache turned migraine.