He Was Sent By Angels (a poem in development)

by / Friday, 29 September 2017 / Published in Artistic Process, Happiness, Kindness, Love








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

external conditions.

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

luminous then?

Messengers of angels, you brightened my heart.


~ Narissa Doumani 2017

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