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Golden Dove
I can't save you from your death
and I can't save you from your life
but I will walk beside you
on those days when a weary mind
gets more worn.
And I will dip my head and ask you,
“My golden dove, why so forlorn?”
Oh, I know.
We are alive and
it is impossible.
This vanishing world.
The fires and the fits.
The falling to bits.
But, come take my arm.
Let us stroll anyway.
We still have our feet.
Let’s walk down the street!
There is the geranium and the rose.
The eucalyptus tree all aglow
with its quiet and sage beauty.
The horse, so dignified.
The duck in the pond
with the geese and the swan.
The blush of bougainvillea, spreading her heart
across every fence.
Those grand gorgeous daughters
strong hands and exquisite eyes, a gift.
The dreaming and swirling dervish who loves you.
Sofrita, so sweet and so swift!
We can take a nap, you know.
Rest awhile as the world turns.
And even if it burns
I’ll be beside you.
And I will remind you
that nothing lasts forever.
Not even life.
So, let us live while we can.
Come tend to the garden
and tell me the story of
the yellow rose.
Let us cook the recipes only you
know how to make
and sing the songs that rise up in our lungs.
Let’s find the love notes
in the cupboards and closets
and the photographs of everyone
we ever loved.
I’ll cut your hair
and you can fret over my bug bites.
Open the window.
Pour the wine.
For now, we have so much time.
We will remember these days.
How we found pleasure.
How we found laughter.
Bare shoulders under a hot and falling sky.
How we fought for our joy.
How we won.