POLITICAL Poem: A Blue-spotted Wood Dove turns to Ash, by Florence Njoki

The morning yesterday was hotter, the birds louder
agitated by the sun coming closer to the endless lines of the blue sky
the sea blue in short supply to cool a persistent dove stomping on the roof
no longer at peace.
Raging against the iron, no doubt burning
its feet a darker colour, blood boiling
the bird coos and croaks, the sound unpleasant.
The scant trees brush against the still air, all but silent.
Everything burns around me, the spinach green on fire
the dove yells, but I cannot move.
Pain of divine presence engulfs the body and picks at the brain
every morning, constantly, in the sweltering heat.
I cannot help the damned grey dove, I cannot help myself.
If only I had wings.
So, I watch intently, desperately, as the bird falls off the roof
engulfed in red embers, excruciating pain seared in its eyes.
Belatedly, I notice a shade of sapphire blue on the left wing
before everything turns to ashes.
A blue-spotted wood dove that the skies could not pardon,
and everything burns.

Author: poetryfest

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