The Dove and Me -- a poem by Philip Clayberg

Copyright 2020, by Philip Clayberg THE DOVE AND ME I lifted my hand

A dove landed on it And I asked it

“Where have you been?

Have you been east to the sunrise?

Have you been west to the sunset?

Have you been up into the sky

Where it's noon and midnight?”

The dove looked at me, Then out to sea And said, “I have seen A world of wonder That you've only dreamed of.

I have seen the fountains of the sun And the frozen glaciers of the moon.

If only you had wings So that you could go where I go.”

I sadly shook my head And sat down on a rock, Watching the waves flow onto the beach Only to stop inches from me,

And then slip back into the sea,

An endless pattern like eternity.

“I have no wings,” I said.

“I only have my imagination.”

And the dove said, “Silly, human.

Did you think that I meant wings Like mine, covered with feathers?”

“Didn't you?” I asked.

“Of course not,” the dove said.

“Now imagine your arms are wings.”

I did and they were.

“Now imagine that you're lifting them,” The dove said. “Now sweep down And jump into the sky.”

I did and I was suddenly

Rising above where I'd sat.

“Now come with me,” the dove said.

“There are thousands of places That I have been to, places That I want to show you.”

I did and we did.

“Is this what heaven is like?” I asked.

“Where did you think we were?” the dove asked.

“But what about my body?” I asked.

“You won't need it anymore,” the dove said.

And I didn't. (written 5-14-2020)