He stands before us,
The brave captain in this molecular war,
stripped bare of his armor he confesses,
we may be losing ground.
We are struck dumb.
Silenced by the depth of his suffering,
in awe of the immense power of pain,
we can not move.
Slowly, throughout the day, the heat,
(is it from the battle?) creeps into my bones
as his words come back to me,
again and again, like waves.
And deep in the night,
awake from the heat,
or perhaps my own terror of being without defense,
I am drawn to the little doves, cowering together in the night.
They huddle together, frail and alone.
He is perched in defense against the cats, while she nestles down with her eggs.
I want to hold them, to put my arms around them, and say
Do not be afraid little doves, you are not alone.
Somehow, there, in the depth of the night,
with the cool wind of morning breaking around my face,
it comes, the breath of God, swirling around me,
and lifting up all of us little doves.
The captain and his family,
the troops in the fields,
the mighty and the weak,
we are all held in the gentle strength of this loving grip.
And the captain’s words come, again and again,
echoing through the night,
We are not alone.
God laughs and cries at our side.