Crying for Doves
By Joshua Williams
Who hears our cries in the night? Our skin feels akin to a stone slate, the way we feel through our tears, remaining headstrong through heartbreak. Light and God feel too fleeting on days like this, days where our pain is too great, and respite seems lost. I have written a lot about the tiredness that becomes us, the burden of injustice that weighs against our chests at night as we try and rest and prepare ourselves for the heartbreak a new day could bring. Bewilderment is how I feel, at the nonchalance of a bullet piercing a young girl’s heart. Four times. We weep for our shared blood spilled, we weep for the unflinching gaze of society as our mourning is embellished into nothing more than an unfeeling headline or an aside talking point that is all too fleeting to hold any real weight.
There is a darkness in our midst
It wears blue and tells us to be safe
The words sound like a screech
Parroted through a mic
When words can no longer escape our lips
When our breaths no longer warm the night air
Who lives for us?
We cry for doves
How their wings sing through the air
No longer burdened by the chains in the ground
That hold us there
We cry for the dove
That misunderstood flight
Off to unseen places
Oh
how we wish we could see them off
And wish them a safe flight
We cry for doves
Set free not of their own accord
But of our own guilt
The dove cries for us
Joshua Williams is a poet, activist, and best-selling author of Joshua Williams in a Week of Suicide(s) and love bandit. Twitter: @jshwilliams4 Instagram: @j.w.poeticworks
