~photo by Ward Nixon

Angels Unaware

 

I awaken aware of being

caught up in a battle

to manipulate

my every move.

Everything competes

for my attention

both inside me

and out.

It stands to reason

at every dawn

I resemble

a civil war.

 

Fictional artifacts

ape the originals

yet can never

be the things

themselves.

How can we ever

escape from

the things of man?

 

For instance,

the microwave

humming while

awaiting its ding

does not captivate me

because its origin,

fire, will have

licked my mind clean.

 

The small painting

of a girl with no smile

on the wall in the hall

I pass every day

feels like a mirror

in which I am

accurately reflected.

 

The lamps graze me

with their faux light

while the leather chair

waits patiently for

someone, anyone

to alight.

 

The television,

a window’s

view of a hellscape,

wants to sell

everything it displays,

but instead,

my eyes settle

on the spider plant

whose tendrils spew

a silent fountain,

grassy green

and water-like;

a subtle salvation.

My bed, an altar

for dreaming

rests like a parked car

awaiting a driver, but

since I can’t drive

I am content

to be driven.

Half of life

is being taken

for a ride.

 

What if everything

is its own vehicle

and plays a part

in taking us

to itself, then

instead, why

not lay

fruit upon it,

perhaps petals

or other offerings

for petition;

being that everything

is a means

of arriving somewhere

other than

where we find

ourselves.

 

Hand made things

sing their maker’s praises

because separated

from the hands

that made them,

wait impatient

for another adoption.

 

Suddenly the morning sun

aggressively invades

the room

blinding me

to every object,

a light so bright

I feel it’s heat

scald my skin

forcing me to

squint my eyes

as a cabal of angels

crowd out

all other remnants

or inhabitants.

Their questions

all begin with why

as they appear

to interrogate

souls, but

only to quickly

fade out

as easily as they

had burst in

leaving

us seers

unable to make

out anything

but their trail

of colors.

 

11/26/22