Our friendship meant we played with dolls,
and skipping rope, the swimming in cold water.
We saw a dove come out its egg, a birth,
then watched your brother kill it moments later.
One Summer night you told me about life,
that pigeons always know the long way home,
that mothers want their sons no matter what
but daughters must deserve their parents’ love.
It didn’t make much sense to me that night
but I did know your family well enough,
and it was true perhaps for every girl,
we should find out. As how were we to know .
Sometimes your father threw the family out,
for days you would not come to school
until you did show up again once more
so angry, full of hate. With other friends.
You often left to be alone elsewhere,
it never meant you didn’t want to go,
as staying was no option in those days.
You are that dove to me in many ways.