Over the mountain, my doves breathe smuggling jasmine roses to the city the whiff of spring, mixed with enmity in a vase, I stash my roses nestled between my sheets every petal aligns a memory in me when the soldier's march, I plea where will my doves go, once I leave the city? Silver feathers drop from the sky the dove sits patient on a rambling bough threads of sun reveal shadows of a shivered city one bullet, one dove two doves, now one when the soldier's march, I plea where will my doves go, once I leave the city? Inside, a needle snuggles between the folds of a straw canvas the light creeps through the cracks shadowing my mother’s figure hefty, compact a cup of instant coffee her hand dances a harmonious melody a reunion, between her, the needle, and the canvas. when the soldiers march, I plea mama, where will my dove go, once I leave the city?
The doves of my city hold a special place in my heart. They carry with them the scents and memories of a place that has seen both beauty and strife. From the smuggled jasmine roses to the silver feathers that fall from the sky, these birds symbolize the resilience of a community that has seen it all.
But as I prepare to leave this city, I can’t help but wonder where my doves will go. Will they continue to fly over these hills and valleys, spreading their message of hope and renewal? Or will they too be silenced by the sound of marching boots and gunfire?
For now, I hold onto my memories and the fragrant roses that remind me of home. And I pray that one day, the doves of my city will soar freely once again, bringing with them the promise of a brighter tomorrow.
But as I prepare to leave this city, I can’t help but wonder where my doves will go. Will they continue to fly over these hills and valleys, spreading their message of hope and renewal? Or will they too be silenced by the sound of marching boots and gunfire?
For now, I hold onto my memories and the fragrant roses that remind me of home. And I pray that one day, the doves of my city will soar freely once again, bringing with them the promise of a brighter tomorrow.
I completely agree with you! This degree has introduced me to a world of history and culture. Thank you for…
I hear your conundrum; I too suffer from a ‘title’ that doesn’t pay the mortgage…Beowulf, Dante’s Inferno, Canterbury Tales are…
Welcome
Thank you!
Good stuff.
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Anxious Thoughts 
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