Thursday, January 22, 2015

Lost Messengers

Where have all the angels gone? The messengers
Seem to speak no more to us -- and those who fell
Speak too much -- we hear their cries like Icarus
Falling to the sea. It's wingless angles' songs,
Keyless and atonal, belching dark gray ash,
Pyroclastic flows that gray the sea and sky,
Hide the sun away, the hope that we forget.
Flying high on wings, the other angels soar,
Clear away the ash, and bring a hopeful song.
They know judgment melts your wings, but love and joy
Grow them long and broad so updrafts of warm air
Carry those with wings in an effortless ring,
Spiral, helixing up through the fractal clouds.
These, the angels bringing life and hope, oh where
Have these angels gone? Our messengers, come
Back, we need to hear from you again, your wings
Lifting us into the skies, up from the mud--
Sea and ash together mix in alchemy
Never giving gold. The gold bursts forth on peaks
Angel wings can read only on upward drafts --
Gold we need to prosper and invest to be
Fully human once again -- it's only wings,
Angel wings that can lift us, so we can see,
Hear and taste and smell and feel again like them,
Artists of ourselves again so we can gain
Wings we used to have and now can grow again.

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