(For Two Beloved Sisters, Lorraine and Francine)
Two beautiful, hand-sculptured doves
Graced the garden
wall,
Placed there so securely,
No danger they could fall.
Made of marbled alabaster,
With tints of dainty
pinks,
Each dove a vision by itself,
But by the pair far more
distinct.
Exposed to all the elements,
The summer heat and winter
cold,
The doves so strong they never flinched,
And through the years they
grew more bold.
They could withstand most anything,
And over time, they did
survive,
Though chipped by hail, and blown by winds,
And baked by heat,
they did not die.
It was always reassuring
To see them sitting
there,
Watching o'er the garden,
Proud beauties, with an air.
But then one night, an evil storm
Blew in and took its
toll,
One alabaster dove went down,
And crashed and smashed below.
Artists could not mend it,
Nor could it be replaced,
The
other dove was left alone
Grave sadness on its face.
Can alabaster weep?
Who knows? If warranted, it
may,
For tear-like streaks showed on the cheeks
Of the dove left alone
that day.
So sad, appeared the little dove,
So alone, it seemed to
be,
But it was strong, and it hung on,
To one day meet its destiny.
The winter winds and ice and snow
Did not stir the tiny
bird,
But oh, how welcome was the Spring.
When new birdsongs were
heard.
Nests were made, and babies hatched,
And fledglings learned
to fly,
And then one day a pure white dove
Flew to the statue's
side.
No other doves were found around,
So, whence had come this
little one?
No one could point to a nest
From which this dove had
come.
Day after day it did return,
And a phenomenon
appeared,
The tearful streaks on the sculpture's cheeks
Had completely
disappeared.
Had the tiny, broken dove come back?
Was it mended
now, and whole?
A glimpse of what God's love can do,
And assurance for the
soul
Virginia (Ginny) Ellis
Copyright February 18, 2003