Pigeons point north

We are called today in hearts. To walk against the torrid rain. If I knew where you lived I would rock, holding yours cresting over it all. We are blood diamonds and mine is pointed north and out of breath. On a cold, wet stoop I watch a child covered in a yellow blanket, a man spits within earshot. I wish I could wrap you in salve, sugar, light warmed by rubbing palms. Write my ass off today, for you. That is the calling. It is all I know. Except that we are not broken. We are bodies interrupted from dreams. We gather thread, the net – I am blue, you are red, they are orange and green and palimpsest. All the colors existing in light.

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6 Responses to Pigeons point north

  1. Ah, dear Rach – this says it all and more.
    “We gather thread, the net. . . ‘
    We are palimpsest.
    Bless you.
    Thank you. xo

    • rachvb says:

      Love love love
      I see your horizon.
      xo

      • And I, yours, Rach xo
        And hear the flutter of pigeon’s wings. Have you seen our NZ bird? Kereru – gentle giant amongst wood pigeons. We hear him long before we see him. He – and she – has an appetite for yellow berries; branches bow the moment his feet touch bark. The bulk of him is heart. Love, love xo

        • rachvb says:

          I haven’t seen a Kereru. It sounds very exotic compared to our sparrows and blue jays and starlings.
          They have similar faces to our pigeons, but are much more beautiful – more refined perhaps as most pigeons I see are usually crapping on someone’s head and stealing bagels.
          I see what you mean about the heart – bulky in the chest and full. Not too proud looking just welled and ready.
          Hope you are well today or whatever day it is over there =)
          xoxo

  2. We are bodies interrupted from dreams, assigned the task of fitting what is formless into a human shape and keeping, by wish or will, the unmatched parts from flying asunder. A lovely piece. xo

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