A Convocation of Birds

The wind howled against the brittle branches, a symphony of creaks and lifeless groans bit against the feathers of the dove, reminding him that he had long forgotten what it meant to be warm.

Another endless night dragged on. His only comfort lay in the promise of another grey-colored dawn. It would not be a crystal clear morning with a vibrant blue sky, but at least it would be less dark, less evasive, less isolating. Too much can happen in the dark, and the dove knew that the horrors of the day paled beside those of the night.

The forest had been his home for as long as he could remember. He didn’t know if he had parents or siblings, or if he was the last one of his species. He knew that there was life beyond the suffocating canopy of black clouds that oppressed his existence, but he could never manage to escape it. It was as if the pull of the darkness was too strong. And anything alive that wormed its way in never stayed that way long. So why did he?

He had long known that salvation was a false hope. No one was coming to save him. And why should they? He would condemn no one to this purgatory, especially not in his place, but that did not stop him from dreaming of a life beyond this one—a life filled with light, peace, warmth, and happiness. But thoughts like that only made his reality so much more haunting. Acceptance was his closest companion, and this was eternity.

Then, as the sun warmed the thick barrier of clouds and cast its dull light over the barren terrain, the dove heard a sound. It was bright – brimming with life – and did not belong here. The intrigue was overwhelming. For the first time, he felt something in his chest, like a glimmer, but he could not name it. All he knew was that he could not let this sound escape.

He fell from his perch, hidden deep within the hollows of a blackened tree, and allowed the current of the wind to carry him upward, through the dense foliage. As he broke through the final layer, he was met with an earsplitting boom – thunder. The sky churned into an angry, seething, formidable greenish-yellow. The rain began to fall. He fought with every ounce of his strength to remain upright, and that was when he saw it, far in the distance – a convocation of birds.

The whites of their perfectly groomed feathers pierced the darkness around them. They flew effortlessly against the torrents of rain and wind, as if they were somehow protected from their ferocity. He was struck by their beauty and the purity of their presence in this hellish storm. That was when he realized they were not just any birds; they were like him. He had found his kind – where he belonged.

The dove flew with everything he had in him – the loneliness, the darkness, the pain of his life – driving each flap of his wings. But the birds flew further and further away. The dove wanted to call out to them – to tell them to wait for him, but they would never hear him. The glimmer that had been so intense moments ago began to wither away. He succumbed to the storm, and as he fell, he watched a blazing, white light crawl from the sky and strike the birds. They crashed downwards, tearing through the shadows of the trees, and their light was swallowed whole.

In horror, the dove descended through the canopy. The branches ripped into his skin as he was tossed from side to side. He slammed into the dry underbrush, the breath knocked from his lungs, and worried he had broken a wing. But panic quickly ensued; he had to find his people before the forest did.

He sprang up and brushed himself off. If he had any pain, he didn’t feel it. He moved swiftly through the familiar forest and headed in the birds’ general direction. The rain was broken up by the thick overhead, but the gloominess of the storm cast broad, frightening shadows. He pushed the fear from his mind and reminded himself that no one was coming to save him, but maybe he could save his people.

He searched and searched, but he could not find them. He felt the tears he had been trying to contain break free. He collapsed into a heap and let his heart finally break. He thought he had felt hopelessness, but he had never known the kind that sentences others to a fate like his own. He much preferred isolation to this. He could not shoulder this responsibility, for it was far too heavy.

Then, through a break in his sobs, he felt it. A deep rumbling. A rumbling that reverberated in his heart and spoke to him.

Keep fighting. For your suffering shall soon be over.

He could not figure it out, but the words warmed him. Even as the freezing rain pelted his feathers and the wind whipped against his body, he felt the very thing he had thought he lost forever – warmth.

He stood up, shook his feathers, washing away the pain he had known all his life, and ran. Over the sounds of the rain, he heard what he could not before – a distant song. He ran towards the sound, driven by the pulling he felt in his bones, and in the middle of the darkness, he saw the birds. Their luminous presence penetrated the dove’s very soul, and deep in his chest, he knew he was home.

The doves saw him and smiled, as if they had been waiting for him. They opened their wings wide and continued singing their enchanting song. He crashed into their embrace, and they welcomed him. He felt everything he had once dreamed of – peace, hope, happiness.

The doves told him that they had been sent. He did not know what that meant, but he did not care. They told him to come with them, but he knew escaping the forest was impossible. They said to trust them, and he did, wholeheartedly. They flew up and up and up, and the dove turned one last time to look upon the only life he had ever known. He saw a branch reach out to drag him back down, but the protection of the doves surrounded him. He was free.

They broke through the clouds, and the storm disappeared. The dove, for the first time in his life, was met with light. The radiance of the sun painted the sky a startling blue. The puffiness of the clouds formed vast, beautiful figures and shapes. But the beauty was not found in the scenery; it was found in the thousands of white doves that soared through it.

The doves sang songs, praising something, thanking someone for saving them. The dove wondered who this creature was that they so clearly loved and couldn’t help but think maybe that was what saved him, too.

The doves that had rescued him told him that there was one last thing he needed to do. He, of course, agreed and went with them. They took him into a golden-gated, kingdom-like structure and led him into a throne room. There sat a big, handsome dove dressed in purple garb. He looked down from his throne and gazed upon the dove. The dove felt that glimmer again and somehow knew it was love. The king dove took him into his weathered wings and whispered, knowingly, into his ear,

“Welcome home, my son. We’ve been waiting for you.”