The Angels I�ve Met

I have seen their faces.

Not the perfect forms washed upon canvas

By the Renaissance masters

But crooked forms who pass unnoticed

In front of eyes that no longer search for miracles.

 

About the time I realized there was a world

Outside of my small town confines

A random drunk approached me on the sandy shores of freedom

And asked me where he could quench his thirst.

There was nothing in his words to comfort me then

But each year has increased their potency.

 

The old man who rambled along cobblestone streets

And dressed like a ghost from the only time

He could still see in his mind.

His words cuts through me like a saber

When he called me Daddy.

But whatever mark he left upon me

Was mended by his departure

When I looked down

And saw my hand supported by the dainty fingers

Of the only one who ever stayed.

 

Our hearts were mended together

On stainless steel operating tables

Before either of us had passed a single thought.

Torn from our mothers’ arms or womb

While men in glasses and latex gloves

Made incisions and inserted tubes

Still visible today.

Perhaps we would have both finished then

If the spirits had not drawn a line

Between your faint heart and mine

And the ivory hand set to grab our infant souls in one stubborn yank

Withdrew from our throats

While the cherubs swopped in

Cooing us to sleep with promises to come.