The White Dove

I remember when they brought to me
The White Dove.
It seems so long ago—
Her eyes gazed up at me in
Innocence
-and a little bit of fear.
I smiled down
on the face of
the white dove.
And so began our long and tedious work. For
I
was
her
teacher.

I knew what lay before her in
The misty hills afar—
The burden would be heavy;
The distant shores would call.
Sometimes there was a struggle,
For the white dove yearned to be free.
But I would grasp her to me
And whisper words of peace—
And,
In time
Her wings grew stronger. At times
I saw that She would exceed me.
And yet still
It was not time—

Today, I stand on a precipice.
I hear
the smashing
waves
below my feet;
The mist rises up to encompass the beautiful
White Dove
and
me.

With outstretched arms—
I open my hands—
And watch the white dove
Soar—

Away on the breeze—

Deb Borkert