at the window (in the light)

The softness of the day filtered through the shabby screen

bathing the two of them in a weak and desolate light.

The window flew open and hundreds of doves were startled

scattering into the dark gray sky.

The beating of the wings pounded in her ears

As the birds rose higher, they disappeared from view

The quiet they left spread like fingers around her heart

She wanted the birds to come back, surround her pain

With their gentle sounds and proximity.

She needed everything close, within reach, to hold both

Of them in the sway of life.

It was all too fragile, all too delicate.

Something substantial would save them from

The tenderness of the moment that provided

Injury and healing  all at once.