Scratching the surface so far, blessed we are not
by anything called angel.
Deep in the midst of the modern disease,
how does one define an angel?
If wings are variable, we are doomed: deemed demonic.
Deeper, how does one describe an angel?
Halos are invisible, if within existence at all,
so physical features are disposable.
Deeper still, what marks requisite for an awakening?
The gown we dressed ourselves with has anchored us to sleep.
Deeper to the point of drowning, can an angel be
awoken from the clay?
Anything already animated answers all calls apathetically.
Deeper even still, what will any angel do drowned
in all this depth?
Drowning can't be the only option.
Share This Poem