Not like Rilke's angels of gnosis and
terrible comprehension nor a simile
to sword-bearing archangels
princes of flame or darkness
this angel is winged but gentle
It guards the doorway of the heart
assuring with a smile that beings
continue to remember the myriad small
things each one has received from
others
That glass of water, a touch on the
wrist, directions to the vintage clothes store
words of encouragement
after a death in the family
This angel spreads its wings
to protect the child sleeping
for the first time in a new house
to shield the tears of the mother from
the eyes of those who live by devious acts
This angel hovers over bread and cheese
new shoes fresh candles on the dinner table
Yet there is that about this angel
which admits no compromise
It has its own fierce persistence
its endless vigil of clarity
