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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.

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