We celebrate the setting sun
With heartfelt chants
Beating drums
Dearly beloved…Married, Just
Barefoot in the summer sand
Hand in hand we placed our trust
Some words we painted on our car
Tin can wishes shooting stars
Releasing birds with solemn words
With smiling eyes, our dreams fly by
In circles round what could have been
Picture perfect heaven’s view
Something old and something new
We kiss as our guests clap and sigh
Down to earth the doves return
Back inside their cage once more
Waiting for sound on waves
Altars draped in crystal lights
Summer graves and star-crossed nights
Feathered veils washed in white
Like words, we toss into the sky
Another way to say goodbye

Now years have flown and time returns
Watching as your letters burn
Black ash flies like birds released
At weddings or for love, deceased
White dreams flying
Justifying
The wrong or right
The where or why
In weddings—funerals, so it goes
Love and losing juxtaposed
So pure to view
In retrospect
Rewriting history once again
But something’s missed, these dreams persist
At times unwind like feathered bliss
Signifying nothing now
But at the time
So sweet
Sublime

At that moment when we kissed
To be precise, the wings of doves
Representing souls in love
Lovely creatures
Departing spirits
Connecting us to higher realms
Universes, vows, and curses
Into cobalt skies, we fell
Disappeared in misty clouds
Like tears behind the eyes
Returning as a story told
Promises of love and lies
To heaven, they ascend
As we as one suspend belief
Our feathered friends express our grief
Snow-white birds just lovely words
Celebrating baby’s breath
Tragic endings
Sonnets
Death
Coming home
Fortunes
Luck

But seriously, what is it all worth
Funeral dirges, fleeting mirth
Do white birds represent the soul
And if they do, are they at peace
Or longing for their next release
And where do restless spirits go
Ascending or descending
Who’s to ever truly know
Remaining in perpetual motion
A mystery to be sure
Reasons vague, so obscure
If all-white birds are truly pure
Do they sing of little wings?
Misbegotten finer things
The love of a lifetime
The loss of a lifetime
Whether poets are defined by rhyme
And if they are, is it a crime

And what defines a loss or life
Transitions of a man and wife
Where do restless spirits go
Questions held in retrospect
Define the lines that we neglect
Who holds the keys to loving words,
Or cages full of white laced birds
Living memories
Winged celebrants
Unaware of death or love
No clue to what they represent
Do they know or resent
Are they aware or understand
These flights to nowhere
Flights of transition
Of commitment
Of control or contrition
White-winged magicians
Is their world of ritual a curse
Or what’s worse,
are they blessed in their ignorance
Flying blindly into the blue
Released as future memories
Of hope
Of life
Of love
Of freedom
Only to return to their cages once again

TM DiSarro

©2023 TM DiSarro/MindScapes Publishing

From: THE BUSHMAN

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