He Was Sent By Angels (a poem in development)
He Was Sent By Angels
He was sent by angels I’m sure.
Charging down Spencer Street
ensnared in headphones
and bag straps that tugged
at his gangly frame
like the bonds of Mara himself.
Hordes of the dead
shuffled between you two.
Hissing trams sounded
their descent by the dozen
and they dutifully swarmed
to their concrete dungeons.
He did not part them all mighty
like Moses the sea.
Unblinking eyes locked downward,
funnelling life force
into fabricated realities,
how could he enlist them?
Only I saw him pass.
His lone bobble head weaving
a path of light, right arm aloft,
plaid victory banner
streaming in the crisp air,
a fine standard of virtue.
On he pressed as though
the fate of the world
hung in the balance.
Maybe it did.
I didn’t dare dream he’d make it
the whole block to you.
He was sent by angels I’m sure,
that morning I’d been let down
once too many times,
and the world appeared to me
a grey and wretched thing
seething with vile corruptions.
I should know better than
to tie my happiness to
Have been training in that.
I see my fault clearer now:
expecting the same of the world.
He grabbed your red puffer sleeve,
had you spinning and startled,
panted, ‘You dropped your scarf.’
Did either of you know you were
Messengers of angels, you brightened my heart.
~ Narissa Doumani 2017
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