By Charlene Williams
Wearing my pajamas, I go outside and sit. You aren’t there. They say God took you.
The mourning doves want to moan for me, and I let them. They peck a hole in my chest, and their cooing seeps into my bloody wounded heart. It hurts so much. Exquisite pain is mine, and I let it rip. Up, Up, Up. It will flood me. It will take me. It’s in my throat now. I can’t breathe.
Wait.
I push my feet flat and feel the ground, firm. I clutch the chair arms. Exhale. Then light, then focus.
I moan.
You coo.
Wonderfully sad. Loved it.
Very touching with loss and acceptance and that beautiful communion with the soul of doves.
Beautiful and courageous…
Mourning doves softly coo to strengthen you.
Thoughtfully shared!
Brought tears to my eyes.Love it!