A Dove’s Tale

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Upon a cold and windless night,

Rain would fall, as

Angels and saints appeared from behind the clouds,

Perhaps to paint reflections upon the meandering creeks

That twisted around the moss- tainted tree trunks,

Dampened from some other winter’s storm.

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Magnificent to behold, they were,

Though upon that tempestuous night,

It was none but a reverie.

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Peacefully though soundlessly I would rest,

My thoughts would be silenced though

Amidst this seemingly never ending squall on that

Night the world had blackened.

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Dark was the night,

The snow, sleet and rain,

The fury of it all surpassed, as

I lost myself in another realm.

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A bed would a vessel become,

Guiding me through my dreams and

Through the never-abating storm,

Carried me home.

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Branches and twigs of barren trees

Encased in ice were

Etched across the sky,

Shades of cobalt and cyanotic blue-

I was a dove that had spread my wings and

Ventured into flight.

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My wings, though fractured, were

Strong as ever could be upon that night,

Carried me above the treetops, and

Cheered and warmed by the gamma rays of the sun,

I became.

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In my solitude I would hover above the

Silver-hued trees dancing, above the

Dew-spattered grass refracting the light of the

Descending moon and the rising stars blazing a path before me.

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My wings would carry me beyond that

Forever expanding horizon,

Until I lost myself in another place,

A different sort of place

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Unfamiliar and unwelcome sounds

Overshadowed the splendor of the heavens

The cacophonous sounding of chiming bells,

And the voices of angry people, and

Flames that rose and singed my feet,

And my wings- had frozen still.

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I became a screaming dove who had fallen with

The snow, sleet and freezing rain,

And whose fractured wings had weakened and therefore-

Useless had become-

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I would have wept if a dove could cry.

My body wracked with pain, and would have

Taken my life in the moment if

That a dove could do.

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As I ruffled my feathers and

Tucked my head under,

I hid from the world-

A world that had betrayed my trust.

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My feet would blister in the fire, which rose and burned.

I screamed and wept silent tears, as

God, his angels and saints had forsaken me…

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Rage had become my false power,

Tearing my soul to pieces, as it had done, although

I came into my own and  once again,

Became free to lash out at the world that had wronged me so.

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I would ruffle my feathers and tuck my head under one more time,

And would weep without a sound.

Nobody wants to hear a dove cry-

We are beautiful birds pure and white,

Symbols of peace and love, we are and have always been.

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A dove is not allowed to feel the pain of

Hurt, rejection and loss,

Angry or sad we could never  allowed to be,

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Doves live in a world in which

One must always be content and