DIBANG MARY

 

 

Dust And Dove

 

I am human

formed from the dust,

breathed into by mercy.

 

I walk the earth with trembling feet,

still learning how to be clay and spirit at once.

 

And you

you are dove,

 

descended from heavens torn open,

a whisper of peace

 

after the flood of fear.

You carry the olive branch in your mouth

 

a promise that the waters will not always rise.

Between us, the wind moves

 

holy, unseen,

sometimes storm,

 

sometimes still.

It is the same wind that hovered over the waters

 

when the world was newborn,

the same breath that turned dust into man.

 

You rest upon me,

like on the shoulder of the Son

 

not as burden,

but as blessing.

 

And in that moment,

heaven and earth remember each other.

 

I am human

heart heavy with history,

hands full of questions.

 

You are dove

pure, patient,

messenger of God’s gentleness.

 

You teach me that peace is not escape;

it is presence.

It is a voice in the wilderness saying, be still.

 

It is the ark after the storm,

the grace that lands on open palms.

 

In you, I see what love looks like when it forgives.

In me, you see what faith looks like when it falls and still rises.

 

And maybe that’s what God intended

that the human and the dove

 

should meet halfway between earth and sky,

between sin and salvation,

 

between what we are

and what we are called to be.

 

For love, when it is divine,

does not lift us away

 

it teaches us to walk light,

to rise without leaving,

 

to be of dust

and still of heaven.

©️ Dibang Mary

 

Smiling In Silence

 

The gap is small,

yet my tongue finds it,

restless as a child rocking

with arms akimbo,

claiming a place in the world.

 

A missing tooth is not just absence,

it is the story of how we fall,

how we grow,

how we trade pieces of ourselves

for the promise of becoming.

 

Hands on hips,

chin lifted

I once grinned wide,

gap flashing like a badge of honor,

a reminder that growing up

is equal parts ache and pride.

 

Children trust the pillow’s secret trade,

the coin in the morning,

the magic of exchange.

Adults carry different gaps

dreams unfulfilled,

names we no longer call,

laughter that doesn’t echo back.

 

Still, we stand

arms akimbo,

mouth learning to shape words

around what is missing,

smiling not despite the hollow,

but because the hollow

tells its own truth.

 

And in the quiet,

the gap speaks softly

not of what is gone,

but of what remains:

the courage to stand tall,

the grace to carry absence,

the strength to smile into silence.

©️ Dibang Mary

 

DIBANG MARY

 

DIBANG MARY is a Nigerian writer whose stories explore love, betrayal, and the journeys that shape us. Her work blends lyrical introspection with narrative clarity, creating worlds that are both intimate and expansive. Mary’s recent fiction has been recognized by literary platform Brittle paper, the global times, Kalahari review, hello poetry, and many more and She often draws inspiration from the resilience of human spirit and the beauty found in choice and freedom.