Tuesday, April 8, 2025

Migration

 Don't remember the ones who turned from your song.

You're not the one they've scorned, dove.


I create a place that whispers in soft light. 

You will not weep much more, dove.


Trust that I can lead you there, you,

so often lost dove.


I call you to a land you don't know,

a place where free things can grow, dove.

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