Dews and Doves

8 years have passed; summers, winters, and changes each unique and the same.

And here I lay at the angle of repose hearing the same songs of the mourning dove sung

differently.

I can’t help but wonder of the changes I’ve missed.

Did the leaves fall better in my absence? Or did the doves sing more sweetly during those

summers?

Surely I am not melancholic; my life has been beautiful.

Composed of mountain ranges and peaks of adversity, overcome again and again.

When I step back, all I can be is mesmerized.

Was the treachery worth it for this view? I’ve been climbing so much I rarely enjoy the

landscapes.

But this time is different. It has been 8 years since I left.

Have I come full circle or is this just deja vu?

The cascade of emotions triggered by the smell of this morning dew is uncanny.

I preemptively smell the diesel of the bus that took me in these mornings years ago,

And as much as I wait, it does not come.

I sigh with ambivalence; I no longer take that bus to work, but now I must continue on my own.

Walking, climbing, trudging through more years like the last 8.

I’m curious how the doves will sound when I return again, and how the leaves will look.

I can tell you with near certainty what it is like, but you will never know.

Our time flows like water, storm or shine.

Unrelenting in its path, all things will erode and merge into one.

So please, let’s merge and walk together.

As I believe time wants us to experience our dews and doves in good company.

Mark Houdi is a third-year medical student at the UTCOMLS.

Fragile Mind