Invisible Angel

INVISIBLE ANGEL

From spring’s dance around a Maypole,

Thrusting up from a thickly fogged-in
ship,

To a fall’s fall from grace to a
place nobody really understands,

Very clearly,

A guardian archangel tried to fly
beside her.

But the angel fell,

Dirty hands sullied in urban sweat
retched from the entrails of chemtrails,

Vials, potions and lotions,

A motion of sickness.

As his power faded in and away from the
light,

She became blighted by the ubiquitous
sight,

Of his slim figure dimmed black in
penumbras spiking up from city nights,

Eyes that once glimmered of real gave
way to the memories of past sealed deals that were rewritten.

She was no longer smitten.

No longer could she see him.

She knew what he was and she knew why
he was there,

Because she was all that there was and
all he held dear,

She was all that he cared for.

But with the rising din of an Autumn
spinning,

Spitting in,

Listening to words that she’s already
heard,

More than once,

She missed them.

No longer could she see him.

Wings crippled,

The archangel fell through to a face no
longer new,

What grew in its place was a fight that
felt ordinary.

And if that was all that she wanted,
she could look around and find plenty.

Belief in the dream sagged into small
moments filled with waiting,

With a fallen angel sleeping beside
her,

She was pacing,

Straining,

Remaining.

In and around a small room with smaller
doors into nowhere she wanted to be,

She screamed at the last trace of the
ghost,

Begging,

“Please. Just free me.”

No longer did she believe in him.

Now all angels need to be seen to be
believed,

And without even a flicker of He,

She sowed seeds of resentment,

She bent him.

No longer could she see him.