su-na-le-i gu-le--di-s-go-ni-hi (morning dove)
I saw it coming out of my right eye first and then the left, the vision unpleasant, the outcome anger and helplessness, a profound spiritual loss and the vision now reality upon first dawn. I have watched the morning doves and thought what they, the nested, symbolized to me and the hope they represented. Their flight, freedom, as I too will soon experience and I have stared with awe from egg to taking flight until innocence was lost this morning and I picked up the remains of hope, of peace and disposed of the tiny carcass.
For weeks I have listened to the chatter, mindless and pointed, the mess the doves were creating, their removal and the removal of the nest a daily contention at the kitchen table and elsewhere. The conversation gave way to a partial nest removal several weeks ago in an evening when the parents had wandered as birds are supposed to do, only to return to rebuild and give birth again as the rest had been bothered and destroyed, cleaned out of the gutters awaiting the rain we have not received all summer long.
This morning the two trying to take flight were blindsided by Ashley and as one quickly took flight the other landed in her clutches against my command. And as I reflected the ladder was brought out so that the remnants of the nest that so bothered my parents could be removed and I watched my mother make her way, with a ladder, toward the gutter and at this point it was obvious. I would climb the ladder for the alternative was unfathomable and those that could be paid a simple five dollars or maybe three to remove the nest that had the strength and the health to climb ladders were never asked for it was and has been easier to complain and carry on about the disruption the doves were creating than to fix it and have the nest removed by someone certainly more capable than I.
I am angered this morning and the feeling is tempered with the loss of hope and I see the parallels and irony of the helpless dove when I look in the mirror and through my eyes and what I see does not excite, only frightens me as I watch a tear representing so much emotion fall from my eye past my check, the salt of my wound tasted in the corner of my mouth.
For weeks I have listened to the chatter, mindless and pointed, the mess the doves were creating, their removal and the removal of the nest a daily contention at the kitchen table and elsewhere. The conversation gave way to a partial nest removal several weeks ago in an evening when the parents had wandered as birds are supposed to do, only to return to rebuild and give birth again as the rest had been bothered and destroyed, cleaned out of the gutters awaiting the rain we have not received all summer long.
This morning the two trying to take flight were blindsided by Ashley and as one quickly took flight the other landed in her clutches against my command. And as I reflected the ladder was brought out so that the remnants of the nest that so bothered my parents could be removed and I watched my mother make her way, with a ladder, toward the gutter and at this point it was obvious. I would climb the ladder for the alternative was unfathomable and those that could be paid a simple five dollars or maybe three to remove the nest that had the strength and the health to climb ladders were never asked for it was and has been easier to complain and carry on about the disruption the doves were creating than to fix it and have the nest removed by someone certainly more capable than I.
I am angered this morning and the feeling is tempered with the loss of hope and I see the parallels and irony of the helpless dove when I look in the mirror and through my eyes and what I see does not excite, only frightens me as I watch a tear representing so much emotion fall from my eye past my check, the salt of my wound tasted in the corner of my mouth.
posted by the warrior at 7:14 AM
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