Poetry

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Between a Pigeon and a Dove

In the calm of Sunday morning
I watched her nesting in the eve of this dwelling.
Peaceful the sunrise lets not a single sound
but kisses grass covered fields
and shakes the shadows of the twilight
that creep from our darkest corners

She closes her eyes to embrace the warmth
with her pure white breast protruding
in the stillness of a Sunday morning.

I have lamented within the troubles of my heart
and spent to the hours in a score of days
all the tears that have refused to allow me to fly

Do not fore sake the sunrise. Do not for sake the light.
I hear the voice of freedom
you have carried this pain away from me
I bask in your warmth.

You have paid my marker for all the sin in my life
death can cast a shadow
but I can not harbor fear
for these chains are broken unto me.

Let me discern for you the difference
between a pigeon and a dove.

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