The wounded angel

(from a painting by hugo simberg)

Those who bear the wounded angel
Are they honoured or destroyed
Far beyond their comprehension
Are the warfares of the void

Angels have a sheen to lift them
Well above the bloody battles
Human beings give their hurts to
Divines don’t need such tittle-tattles

Yet this angel has been wounded
Here on earth its presence is
Two young boys (the stretcher bearers)
Are flung immensely into crisis

Where to take a wounded angel
Wait till we can tell our friends
Is this something one is dreaming
– both are terrified of ends

Are we martyrs heroes villains
Should we drop the thing and run
Will we be decorated or scolded
– something new beneath the sun

Weightless stretcher far too heavy
Sweating fingers burn like ice
Legs revolve in all directions
Thoughts race into paralysis

Ahead the village breathes as normal
Innocent of the eternal bloom
About to bleed its hope-fear petals
Into each mortal living room

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The wounded angel