Another will be in me who will suffer
For me as I shall suffer for him.
Charles Williams
Descent of the Dove

Descent of the Dove
While I stood in the bookstore, I looked
at the vet’s picture book of Yorkshire.
The owner’s voice creaked underfoot.
She told me, You’ve had a hard time here.

When I leafed through the book, she said,
Go to people who care.

I saw Welsh ponies dusted with snow
and bulldozers clearing the roads.

I’d be bitter if I were you.

I never saw this—I went in August.
The book showed the hostel I stayed in,
and the church with the red stained glass.

Go where they’ll tell you
Do what you know you have to do.

But a waterfall in York.
A picture of water strung—
Glass smoothly broken over stone
Windblown, I couldn’t shatter so well.

Don’t let people drain you.

I stuck my hand in the falls
And let the water break.

If you like this poem, please take a second
to share it with others.