the Dove


You, you were my first and worst love,
my life, my love I dedicated to you,
I gave you my soul, a small white dove,
as I knew, but still hoped your words were true.

You were the one condemning me, leaving your trace,
I matured at your side, moulded into whatever you wished,
captured, harmed by your possessive embrace,
you build a cage as my identity slowly vanished.

The small white dove grew, her white feathers stained,
longing to drift on the winds in a clear summer sky,
but still dragging the burden in her soul engraved,
cuffing, condemning her, as years drifted by.

The dove gained strength through silent desperation,
her soul expanding, where the calls of 'La Loba' resound,
her courage caused the cage to crumble, ending captivation,
as she spread her wings and flew, freedom refound.

Copyright Clautje West 2001

'La Loba' a name used in many myths and stories.
The wolf woman, she who stands for the 'wild' spirit and freedom within the soul of women who are ready to listen.