The Black Dove - Emily Jane White

Pick up the wounded dove

There’s poison in your love

And pain entwined with love

Stitched in the feathers of a Catholic dove

Hold our skin

We’re the colors that we’ve always been

Nation incarceration

Narrative stories of faces in the towns we live

Killing threads, iron cages

Are you, are you familiar?

How I know you shouldn’t be familiar, familiar

How I know you shouldn’t be familiar, familiar

How I know you shouldn’t be familiar, familiar

How I know you shouldn’t be familiar, familiar

How I know you shouldn’t be familiar, familiar

How I know you shouldn’t be

Are you, are you, are you?