When doves cry
is it because
they are filled with pity?
When they lie
slain on the street
I can only hope they went out quickly
I drive by
through busy streets
I count their dead
I feel so sorry
When doves cry
it must be because
they know most will not miss them
I’ve never liked the seaside
fearing the riptide
that takes me away
I’ve never liked the high dive
jumping
up
up
up
then down into the deep
nothing
Yet here I decide
I fear nothing
Not as in I am fearless,
but as in
I fear it
It’s truly incomprehensible,
it can’t be imagined,
and we’re stuck with the thought of
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