On Golden Wings of Doves


Perched upon the white, undulating rail,  a snow-white dove coos at me from its beak of gold.   As it extends its wings for flight, the feathers change from stark white to a glistening gold.  Suddenly, I remembered how often this dove was in my life during the last weeks of Momma’s life.  I wrote poems, used the phrase “on the golden wings of dove” in my blog entries and even sat next to her carefully describing the wonderment of this dove.  Until I started writing, the connections to Momma, her death and how I used the story of a golden dove, was certainly not clear.  By the time I wrote “Perched upon the white, undulating rail, a snow-white dove coo’s at me from its beak of gold,” the past was also perched upon the rail.

For another moment, I contemplated my closure and wondered, could the dove be here for me??  As I sang part of the song, the one I sang to my Mother, I understood that the doves are a metaphor for coping with her last voyage and pleased that the doves stay with her as she departed this world for another.   Now, under my circumstance I feel they simply say, “You also are not alone.”

Think of it, though, within the context of my fantasies, to ride upon their  golden wings, particularly if they carry me through a galaxy of brilliant stars, can only be seen as a mighty, rejuvenating experience for me and as I awaken the good feelings of fantasy will keep me going for a long time.

Each time I write about the intangible I question if there are those who don’t understand  the uniqueness of fantasy.  I wish they could!!, but then I remember there are all the rest of humankind that does understand just how important a few moments away from reality can bring you back filled with cheer!




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