Painting by Herman Bask

Every Angel is Terrifying

 

This morning I woke

to find I’d been

kissed by an angel

on the forehead

while I slept.

I knew this because

my brow was

dashed and bloodied.

I searched my mind

for a dream

to explain it

but none existed,

though mornings

often offer up

signs of a struggle.

 

Could the sight of blood

be a red reminder

that death is racing

through our

underground

streams looking

for a way out of itself;

a seedling

making its way

toward the light

determined

to flower?

No rock or root

can inhibit its crawl

through the sediment

of ourselves.

Until of course

busting out

like birds

growing gradually

bored of

their cages.

  

Now I know there is

no need to figure out

what to do next

as the things that

need doing

present themselves

for execution

in their own time.

Has there ever

been a need

to do otherwise?

But I, like

everyone else

tend to take

things into my

own hands

if for no other

reason than

it flatters

the ego to force

things to happen.

 

Was it Rilke

who said,

“Every angel is

terrifying. And yet,

alas I welcome

You.”

Angels are

indeed perilous

as even their kisses

leave a bruise.

Who better to

bewilder us

back to

the proper

gratitude?

 

I wouldn’t have said

this to anyone or

anywhere else

but here

in this place

allotted for

the most beautiful

of all possible

revelations.

 

03/14/22