Holy Spirit
By Patrick T. Reardon
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Holy Spirit (in caps),
aka Holy Ghost, aka Paraclete.
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With Father and Jesus = Trinity.
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In art, dove,
like the one that left the ark,
came back with green twig,
like dove over the Jordan
and the water over the Son.
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The beloved’s eyes in Song of Songs
were doves.
Before wolves, “innocent as doves.”
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Dove = peace.
Not eagle, warrior of the air.
No meek sparrow.
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Aka Giver of Life, Breath of Life,
Wisdom and Understanding.
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For Father, think Cosmos, all Nature,
Big Bang to atomic geography, overarching.
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For Jesus, a guy you could meet.
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Holy Spirit = sweet inspiration.
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Dove = flight,
a flittering, ignoring gravity, riding breezes,
always whispering,
the still, small voice, the gentle breathing,
the soft itch of silence that Elijah heard.
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Aka Comforter.
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Dove = insight,
wonder of surprise.
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Dove, sometimes called she.
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Patrick T. Reardon
5.3.22
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This poem was originally published by Calla Press on 4.1.22.
Written by : Patrick T. Reardon
For more than three decades Patrick T. Reardon was an urban affairs writer, a feature writer, a columnist, and an editor for the Chicago Tribune. In 2000 he was one of a team of 50 staff members who won a Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting. Now a freelance writer and poet, he has contributed chapters to several books and is the author of Faith Stripped to Its Essence. His website is https://patricktreardon.com/.