Dove and Crow

By Sylvester Wong

“There she is, as pure, graceful, and beautiful as white doves of peace that have just taken flight

... and here I stand, a murder of crows, cawing in unsightly madness upon a festering mess of

maggots, decay, and death.”

Sitting in the meadow,

hidden under shadows,

wondering if she knows how she sets the world aglow.

As she dances among the stars,

I quietly look from afar,

it truly is bizarre,

to love her and not be par.

As an abhorred crow who symbolises woe,

I had always known

that I should stay alone.

Holding back a sigh,

I flew as I wondered why,

why do I have to try?

Why am I spreading my wings to vie?

As I circle the night skies,

I pray he won’t see through my guise.

I don’t hope to mesmerise,

I just wish he had me in his eyes.

As a snow-white dove,

perhaps I am just that tough to love,

a broken heart may be hard to nurse,

but I will just take it as my curse.

“There he stood, proud, powerful, and unafraid of all known stigmas humanity had associated to

his kind … yet here I am, masquerading without a shred of shame as a symbol, all for the sake of

adoration, predilection, and freedom.”

By Sylvester Wong