Poor Dove. Poem by Benson Muthoka

I love her song moved by her sweet soft coo.
Peace like water from cool springs flows out of that song.
And like the pools afoot the hills overflows my heart with tranquillity.
White like fresh milk are her feathers to my eyes.
Like my smile is she bright whenever she peaches on that heaven reaching tree.
She sings I listen...
But my brother my own brother who shared a womb with me
He thinks she is evil and jinxed and noisy
He loves his sling and to think she were Goliath.
Away! away! Flee for your life.
My poor dove.
My symbol of peace!