The Dove’s Brief Flight
Daniel Rutberg
October 2013
I am weightless and floating
in the absence of light
I am mourning
the dove’s brief flight
How does one feel
when your first best friend dies
your blood brother
And broker of peace
As children we saw rites and rituals
dashed against the magnificent cliffs
of science as it emerged
in all its glorious forms
of practice and theory
We poured over magazines
predicting flying cars and
highways in the sky,
and carefully followed plans
to build miniature motors and circuit boards
We saw pictures of dinosaurs and modern tribes of people
who lived in huts, hunting with spears
then watched reports of Sputnik circling the globe
We drove go-carts, ride on mowers
Even slid our friends father’s sports car in a ditch
and learned that gravity always wins
I remember the talks we had as teens
while we walked along dusty roads
We shared philosophies and moments of teenage angst
and planned exotic travel and wild adventures
and wouldn’t it be cool to ……
shared dreams on the way to Dairy Queen
When tragedy struck my family
he was the first at my side
a true friend
when my father died
As young men
we chose ethics over dogma
Inclusion over bigotry
peace over war
And for the comfort that the sharp edges
of science and engineering just couldn’t provide
we found music in one of its simplistic forms
studied the blues harp
an instrument he described
“as the sound closest to the human voice”
Our friendship changed over time
I moved away
he traveled the world
we both settled down
on different coasts
As adults we spoke by phone from time to time
but always picked up our conversations
where we had left them
Until I stood at his memorial
I never realized how much of me
still clung to our credo
was formed in those years of our friendship
His mother, brother, sisters, son and I
recite with the Rabbi
take turns with the shovel
teaspoons of earth and droplets of our tears
fall upon the box that holds his ashes
I return to his mothers side
where he would have stood
Her hand in mine
Without the shamans shield of tribe or clan
I am weightless and floating
in the absence of light
caught between creation
and the dove’s brief flight
I think of my friend
Always searching for peace within himself
Helping others to achieve the same
forgiving and generous to a fault
finding solace in the wail of a blues harp
and the friendships he made along the way
His legacy is etched deep in my soul
and the souls
of those who knew him and loved him.
Daniel Rutberg 